


In a Single Moment

by pamz



Category: Zorro (TV 1990)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Coitus Interruptus, Drinking to Cope, Emotional Trauma, Explicit Language, F/M, Rape, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-15 01:36:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 42,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9213497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pamz/pseuds/pamz
Summary: In one single moment, Victoria's life is changed forever.  Can Diego help her pick up the pieces? An alternate universe based on the New World episode "The Reward" (Episode 4.06) written by Robert L McCullough & Phillip John Taylor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is an amateur, not-for-profit publication produced solely for the enjoyment of other Zorro fans and is not intended to infringe upon any rights by Goodman/Rosen Productions, New World Television, Zorro Productions, the estate of Johnston McCulley or anyone else.

Victoria smiled with satisfaction as she flitted her eyes around the dining area of her tavern. The place was nearly filled to the rafters with customers who were eating, drinking, gossiping. She liked to believe that her parents; God rest their souls; would have been proud of what she had accomplished since the inn was placed into her care.

She acknowledged she could have so easily lost everything. She had been but a young girl, barely fourteen years old, who had been not only devastated with grief over her mother's horrific death, but also by the sense of abandonment she had felt when her father and brothers had run off to join the rebels in some misguided attempt to avenge the murder of their wife and mother.

Sighing as she pushed the sad memories from her mind, Victoria resumed her surveillance. The corners of her mouth quirked upward as she watched as Sergeant Mendoza entered the tavern, followed by several of his fellow lancers. The soldiers quickly commandeered the only empty table, one not far from where Don Alejandro sat with his son, Diego.

Her eyes lingered on the tall handsome caballero as the thought she usually kept firmly pushed to a far corner of her mind popped to the forefront. The disturbing notion that if it hadn't been for the appearance of Zorro into her life, if she hadn't fallen head over heels for the mysterious masked man, that. . .that _something_ might have happened between her and Diego.

But, she told herself firmly, there was no point in dwelling on disquieting thoughts of what might have been, especially since nothing would ever come of it. Zorro had come into her life. He had proposed to her, offering her marriage and the children she so desperately wanted. She wore the ring he had given her; his mother's ring no less; tied to a ribbon which was securely pinned to her chemise next to her heart.

[parts of the following were taken from the "The Reward" written by Robert L McCullough & Phillip John Taylor]

" _Si, si_." Mendoza's loud voice broke into her reveries of the day two months earlier when she and the man in black had pledged their troth. Victoria smiled again as she realized the lancers who surrounded the portly sergeant were the newly-arrived recruits. Mendoza had to be delighted to have such impressionable fresh young minds to regale his ever-increasingly tall tales of his supposed heroic deeds.

"It was when I first joined the Royal Militia in Mexico City," the stout soldier continued on brashly before taking a long sip from his mug of ale. "General Campos," he said after wiping his mouth with the back of his left hand, "was looking for the best. . .the bravest. . ." He lowered his voice an octave as he quoted the general, "'Only a few good _hombres_.'"

Victoria chuckled and shook her head as she wended her way toward the table where the de la Vega men sat. It was all she could do not to laugh aloud when she saw the pair painfully repressing their own merriment at Mendoza's boastful words. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a man, a stranger, sitting alone on the other side of the room.

He looked like the hundreds of other men who had passed through her tavern doors over the years; dark haired, tanned skin, travel-worn clothing. Then his eyes met hers, mean and cold, and she shuddered. Victoria pivoted abruptly, breaking the connection, and faced the de la Vegas's table.

"You see," Sergeant Mendoza continued on with his bragging, "we were supposed to accompany him on a dangerous march across the Yucatan Peninsula."

Don Alejandro glanced up at Victoria as she refilled their glasses of lemonade. "Think he knows where the Yucatan Peninsula is?" he asked flippantly, a twinkle in his eye.

Unable to stop the giggle that burst forth, she quickly composed herself. "Now, now," she scolded the old don jokily, "let Mendoza have his little moment of glory."

The elder de la Vega threw up his hands in mock surrender, shaking his head. Victoria turned to leave, then looked back at them with a smile. "Although his imagination does tend to run a little wild, huh?"

Seeing the amused expressions on Don Alejandro and Diego's faces, she walked away. Once behind the bar, she set three glasses on a tray before selecting a bottle of wine from the racks on the wall behind her. With half an ear, she listened to the stout sergeant's story of bravado.

"Then there were only eight lancers left. . ." Mendoza paused dramatically. "No food. Just berries. . .roots. . ." He stopped again for effect. Victoria could see the rapt faces of the young soldiers eagerly hanging on the older man's every word. She shrugged. They would learn soon enough the sergeant, even though he meant well and had a big, kind heart, was also nothing but a braggart.

"Weapons were useless. Snakes and lizards crawling into our boots." The portly soldier's voice rose excitedly. "Savages attacking from everywhere!" He broke off, taking a deep breath, before opening his mouth to continue.

"You say you were on the Yucatan campaign with General Campos?"

The strident words interrupted whatever lie that had been about to tumble next from Mendoza's lips. Victoria turned to see who had spoken and shivered involuntarily when she noted it was the stranger who had made her uneasy only a few moments earlier.

" _Si_ ," the stout sergeant replied, his bold blustering replaced by more than a little nervousness. "The general and I. . ."

"Then you are a liar!" the other man shouted angrily, punctuating his words by jabbing a dagger into his table. Victoria winced at the damage the weapon had no doubt caused to the smooth wood. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Diego had risen to his feet, an intense expression on his face.

_What is he thinking?_ she wondered. He was no match for the belligerent guest, who was also on his feet and strolling menacingly toward Mendoza and the other lancers.

"Campos was no where near the Yucatan," he asserted heatedly.

"Yes, but. . ." the now agitated sergeant began as he shifted uneasily under the other man's penetrating glare.

The stranger cut him off once again, pointing an accusing finger at Mendoza. "And neither were you," he declared. "I was there. Everyday. Risking my neck. You?" The man chuckled scornfully. "You know nothing about the life of a real soldier." He emphasized his words by looking the portly sergeant up and down with a sneer on his scruffy face.

Victoria had heard and seen enough. True, Mendoza liked to boast but so did most of the men who came to her tavern. This stranger. . .this outsider. . .had no right to insult one of her friends. She stepped in between the two men.

"Excuse me," she said fearlessly as she faced the newcomer. Her valor almost deserted her when the stranger turned his icy eyes to stare at her. But she took a deep breath and looked straight at him before adding, "but Sergeant Mendoza happens to do a fine job of staffing our garrison."

She had to suppress a grin as she glanced over at the soldier in question and watched as his already large chest swelled even more at her praise.

"Ah," the shabby stranger said in a leering voice, "the little innkeeper has fire. I like that in a woman."

This time Victoria's courage did flee at the lecherous look on the man's face. She should throw him out of her tavern, even though he had already paid for a room for the night. It would be one refund she would gladly pay out.

But before she could open her mouth, de Soto strode into the building, shouting at the top of his lungs. "Mendoza!"

The alcalde unwittingly came to a halt right behind the stranger, who tossed a distrustful glance over his shoulder. Mendoza snapped to attention.

"Sergeant, what do you think you're doing?" de Soto demanded irritatedly. "Do you think you're on a holiday? We have work to do." The commandante gestured violently toward the open tavern doors. "Back to the cuartel immediately!"

Mendoza and the other soldiers scrambled to their feet and rushed indecorously out of the building. It was only then the alcalde noticed the stranger. Victoria watched as the two men stared at each other, de Soto with curiosity and her now unwelcome guest a defensive expression on his scruffy face. Then the stranger turned away sharply and focused his attention onto her. The intensity of lust she saw in his eyes frightened her so much she started shaking again.

That was when she realized someone stood behind her and Victoria knew instinctively it was Diego. She glanced back at him anyway and was surprised to see the barely suppressed rage of his countenance. A muscle twitched in his jaw as his stormy green eyes never left the stranger. Victoria tore her gaze from his face and observed as the man strolled back to his seat. He pulled his dagger out of the table and ran his thumb almost lovingly up its blade.

Victoria twirled around to confront Diego. She wanted to ask him just what he thought he could do against the hostile ex-soldier. She wanted to thank him for standing behind her, literally. But as she opened her mouth to speak she immediately snapped it closed again as she caught a new expression on his face so fleeting she almost missed it.

Diego nodded curtly to her then rejoined his father who was staring oddly at his son. Victoria gawked at his back as he sat down on the wooden bench. Then she shook her head. Surely she had imagined the look of possessiveness. It was similar to the way he looked whenever he defended the elder de la Vega or Felipe. But there was something different about it this time. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Not wanting to contemplate what it could mean, she shrugged then absently picked up some empty glasses on a nearby table before weaving her way back to her kitchen.

Z Z Z

[parts of the following were taken from the "The Reward" written by Robert L McCullough & Phillip John Taylor]

Darkness covered the countryside, the stillness of the pleasant summer evening marred by the thundering sound of a horse's hooves on the road heading south toward the pueblo de Los Angeles.

The black stallion's rider paid little attention to where he was going or how he was getting there. Upmost on Zorro's mind was the way the antagonistic stranger at the tavern had eyed its lovely innkeeper with such lustful malevolence. It made him nervous and more than a bit fearful for his Victoria's safety. Her guest was a man who obviously enjoyed intimidating people, witness the scene with Sergeant Mendoza. He shuddered to think of how the fellow might threaten Victoria.

Toronado's pace slowed and the man in black glanced up, surprised they had already reached the pueblo's gate. He veered around the completely pointless archway to the left before bringing his mount to a halt by the rear of a building. Using the horse's back as a boost, he climbed up onto the porch's low roof then to the top of the adobe structure.

Within seconds, Zorro was staring down as two lancers saluted each other in front of the cuartel. One soldier then lazily strolled away. Excellent, thought the masked man, now to get rid of the remaining guard.

He had noticed the loosened tile seconds before when he had walked across the garrison roof. Crouching down, he pulled it out then stood up. With a mischievous grin on his face, he calculated the precise moment the lancer would march underneath him and let the hard clay tile go.

Zorro smiled with satisfaction as the soldier collapsed when the tile hit his head. But his smile turned into a frown as the man grunted loudly with pain before he fell into unconsciousness onto the ground. The groan alerted the other lancer who wasn't quite as far away as the man in black had anticipated.

" _Maldita sea_ ," he murmured as he watched the first guard rush back to his compadre's side, spotted the roof tile then started to look upward. Zorro dashed away, even though he knew it was too late and his presence had been detected.

"Zorro!" The cry broke the quietness and echoed throughout the plaza. Exceedingly unhappy his plan for a discreet visit had been shattered, he sighed before jumping from the cuartel to the roof of the building next door.

Z Z Z

[parts of the following were taken from the "The Reward" written by Robert L McCullough & Phillip John Taylor]

Victoria drew in a deep breath before she rapped lightly on the door in front of her. "Señor Lamarca?" she called out, shifting the blanket she held from one arm to the other.

The door flew open as her guest appeared, looking slightly disheveled. He took a step toward her and she could smell the liquor on his breath. Victoria held out the blanket, using it like a shield to block his approach.

"Here's the extra blanket that you requested," she announced, gritting her teeth in an effort to remain polite. In truth, this man scared her, more so than anyone had in a long time.

Lamarca ran his eyes down the length of her body and back up again, causing Victoria to feel as though she needed to take a bath. The lust she saw in his expression make her quiver with fear. "Maybe you should put it on the bed for me," he drawled as he stared at her chest.

Victoria thrust the blanket at him, trying to keep at arm's length. "Maybe not," she replied with more bravado as her skin crawled at his insinuation. She just wanted to escape his presence as quickly as possible.

His hand flashed out and tightly gripped her left wrist. "You should show some respect," he said as he pulled her closer, the blanket fluttering to the floor.

She struggled to free herself. "I'll show some respect when you deserve it, Señor." she declared vehemently. The mingling of his body odor with the alcohol he had drank made her stomach churn as he drew her nearer. For one fleeting moment, she thought he was going to kiss her, the idea of which made her gag involuntarily. Lamarca yanked her into the room, spinning her around until she landed with her back up against the wall by the bed, knocking the breath from her body.

"What are you doing?" she asked dazedly, watching with a growing horror as he closed then locked the door. He then turned and slammed his body up against hers, grabbing her upper arms roughly. "Let go of me!" she shouted, panic rising within her like the bile in her throat.

Her assailant just chuckled before shoving her down onto the bed. Before Victoria had a chance to move, he was on top of her, driving the air from her lungs once again.

"Do I deserve some respect now, bitch?" he snarled into her face a second before he lowered his mouth to hers, crudely stuffing his tongue between her lips.

Victoria tried to wretch her head away but he grabbed her cheeks and held her still. She began to pound on him with her fists, first on his shoulders then aiming for his face.

Lamarca seized her wrists and pinned them over her head. "You know you want this," he said as he roughly squeezed her breast with his free hand.

"I said to let go of me!" she cried out, squirming in a futile effort to get out from under him. He just laughed again as he pushed up her skirts, baring her legs and more to his lewd stare. Still holding her down, he fumbled with the fastenings of his trousers with his other hand.

"Help! Somebody help. . ."

Her call was cut off as he assaulted her mouth once more with his tongue. Victoria wondered wildly for a moment what would happen if she bit down on the marauding appendage.

Then pain like nothing she had ever known sliced through her, driving all thoughts from her head.

Z Z Z


	2. Chapter 2

A scream pierced through the noise and chaos already filled the night air, a sound so chilling that it caused a shiver to slide down Zorro's spine, stopping him in his tracks.

_Dear God! Victoria!_ He should have gone straight to the tavern, taking his chances his presence in the pueblo would have gone unnoticed by the lancers serving as night watchmen. Instead his miscalculations had roused the whole cuartel. Worry gnawed at his gut as he heard faint thumps and thuds coming from the upper level of the tavern. Footsteps closing in behind him reminded him of his own perilous predicament.

Swearing viciously under his breath, he ran across the plaza with several soldiers in hot pursuit. Zorro ducked into the first darkened doorway he noticed, then watched as the lancers raced past. Looking upward, he grabbed onto the door's overhang then climbed up, praying all the while Victoria would be safe enough until he could manage to make his way to her.

Z Z Z

[parts of the following were taken from the "The Reward" written by Robert L McCullough & Phillip John Taylor]

The rattling of the door handle unfortunately brought Victoria back to her senses, the agony she was desperately trying to will away tearing through her once again. The sound of hands pounding and slapping on the wooden surface brought a curse to Lamarca's lips. " _Maldita sea_ ," he grumbled as he pulled himself upward. "Can't a man fuck in peace around here?"

"It's locked!" a man's voice yelled. "Bust it down!" called out another male voice.

" _Mierda_ ," Lamarca swore as he slid off the mattress, jerking up his breeches before beginning to close them up. A loud thud landed against the door and it popped open, ripping out its hinges. Three men burst inside the dorm.

Victoria had wrenched down her skirts the second her attacker moved off of her. She watched numbly as her belated rescuers tussled with Lamarca. Not so surprisingly, he held his own against the trio. She could sadly attest to his strength firsthand. 

Biting her lip in an effort to quell the tears threatening to spill from her eyes, she pressed her face into the pillow and prayed her assailant would be defeated. She didn't even want to contemplate what would happen if he emerged from the battle victorious. _Don't think about it_ , she told herself firmly. _Don't think about it. Don't feel_. . .

A horrific crash caused her head to snap up. She saw her three champions rush out of the room. _Where was Lamarca?_ Gingerly she sat up, a mistake as her head began to spin and her stomach rebelled. Leaning over the side of the bed, she retched violently onto the floor.

Victoria took a couple of deep breaths then got up off the bed. She was still quite shaky but she had to see what had happened. She had to know. Walking what seemed like a mile, she made it to the doorway. The balcony railing directly in front of her was in splinters. An ominous feeling filled her as she stepped out of the room and looked downward.

" _Dios mio_ ," she whispered in shock. Her attacker, _her violator_ , was lying on his back on the tavern's floor, a halo of blood surrounding his head. One of her defenders glanced upward and she recognized him as Paco Garcia, the son of one of the local farmers. The expression on his young face told her Lamarca was dead. She could see guilt in his eyes and wondered if he had been the one to deal the fatal blow. She wanted to tell him he had done the world a favor by getting rid of Lamarca. That the man had been nothing but scum, a bully, a rap. . .

_Don't think. Don't feel_. She repeated the words in her head, wrapping her arms tightly around herself in a futile effort to stop from shaking. _Don't think. Don't feel._

"Victoria!" 

The tenuous control she had just achieved nearly shattered when Victoria heard Zorro's voice, full of concern and worry. Tremulously, she turned slightly as he approached. 

"Are you all right?" he asked, stopping just a couple feet in front of her. He had noticed the broken railing and glanced downward. "What happened here?" 

She looked in the same direction, not trusting herself to either look at or speak to him. She felt him take a step toward her and knew he was staring at her but she couldn't face at him. One glimpse and he would know what had happened to her. And she wouldn't, couldn't allow that. If no one else knew, she reasoned, then maybe she could pretend nothing untoward had occurred. That she hadn't been rap. . . 

She drew in a deep breath, fighting against the nausea that stirred inside her. _Don't think. Don't feel_. 

"That man attacked me," she whispered, hating that her voice quavered. Her gaze still avoided Zorro's as she pointed down at the body on the floor surrounded by her tardy rescuers. 

The three men swivelled their heads upward. "Zorro," one of them murmured. 

Another said, "We didn't mean to kill him." The trio all looked stunned by what had transpired. Victoria could see the remorse and regret on all their faces. 

The masked man nodded. "Taking a man's life is always a painful thing, _amigos_ ," he commiserated. She knew he was thinking of Pablo Zaragosa, the thief who had been killed falling on Zorro's knife nearly a year earlier and how he had mercilessly blamed himself for the robber's demise. 

Then hearing a sharp intake of breath, she knew his regard was fully on her once again. Hoping to avoid his scrutiny, she glanced down, noticing for the first time the bruises purpling on her wrists and realized she must have a matching set on her face. Thank God, she prayed, he can only see the damage on the outside. 

She watched impassively as his gaze traveled down the length of her body before stopping to stare at her feet. "Victoria, you're bleeding," he announced quietly. "Where are you hu. . .?" He broke off his own question with a sudden gasp. 

She glanced downward then, seeing the thin stripe of red on her right ankle. It was only then that she felt the sticky warmth trickling down her leg. 

_Don't think. Don't feel_. Drawing on the tiny amount of strength she had left, she pulled herself together and raised her head, finally meeting his eyes. 

_He knows_. And that knowledge destroyed what was left of her self-control. _Don't think_ , she scolded herself bitterly as she felt the tears gathering. _Don't feel._

Zorro moved toward her and she involuntarily shuddered as she took a pace back. Confusion flooded his countenance as he opened his lips. But before he could say anything, a loud shout from outside the tavern interrupted him. 

"Check the tavern!" called out a voice Victoria recognized as de Soto's. "Sergeant Mendoza!" 

She flinched her face away before she saw Zorro's apologetic expression. The same expression she had hated almost from the beginning. The one that told her that he was leaving and once again she would be left behind to pick up the pieces. 

And the worst part of it all, she couldn't even really be angry with him. He had to go. To stay. . . To risk his life. . . To be killed. . . Well, that would be even more unbearable. 

"I'm sorry," he said unnecessarily. "I have to go. My presence here will only complicate matters." He glanced once more at the dead man below. " _Adios_." 

Out of the corner of her eye, Victoria noticed he started to raise his hand but let it drop. Then with a swirl of his black cape, he was gone. She stayed where she was, her arms still wrapped tightly about her. 

_Don't think. Don't feel_. She kept repeating those four words over and over. If she didn't think and didn't feel, she just might make it through this, she told herself as she watched indifferently as the alcalde and his lancers stumbled into her tavern.

Z Z Z

_Don't think. Don't feel_. The constant repetition of those four words was all that held him together as he rode back to the cave. They continued to echo through his mind as he saw to Toronado's needs before exchanging his Zorro costume for his one as ‘Don Diego.' Only then did he allow the image of Victoria he had been suppressing to materialize. The image of the woman he loved looking so fragile he had been afraid if he had touched her, she would have shattered into millions of pieces.

That picture knocked him to his knees as a wave of devastation and guilt washed over him. Devastation the one woman he had especially sworn to protect had been. . .had been violated. And guilt because he could have prevented it. It had been, he admitted to himself now, his own arrogance and boredom had driven him to challenge the cuartel guards. 

And he only felt worse knowing that no matter how much he was hurting at the moment, it was nothing. . . _nothing_. . .compared to what Victoria must be experiencing. He would never forget the look in her eyes when she realized he knew. It would haunt him for the rest of his life. 

He had also loathed leaving her once again to pick up the pieces. That she should have to shoulder this particular burden alone was almost more than he could bear. 

A vision of Lamarca's dead face mingled with the man atop Victoria, hurting her, taking her innocence so brutally, made Diego curl up his fists and pound them on his thighs as he mightily smothered the urge to howl with rage. For the first time in his life, he wanted to kill another human being. Providentially, the bastard was already dead, saving him from committing the sin of murder. He had just about driven the vile image from his head when he heard his father urgently calling out his name. 

His first instinct was to ignore the elder de la Vega's summons, guessing Don Alejandro had just been informed of the events at the tavern. He just wanted to stay where he was and be swallowed up by his anguish But, he sighed as he heard his name ring out again, the old don was tenacious and wouldn't give up his search until figuratively every stone had been unturned. After checking the viewing hole, Diego entered the passage way leading to the library fireplace.

Z Z Z

[parts of the following were taken from the "The Reward" written by Robert L McCullough & Phillip John Taylor]

"Well, how did this happen?" de Soto asked. When no one else answered, Victoria guessed he was asking her. . .again. . .for what seemed like the tenth time. 

The alcalde had been interrogating her and the three men who had come belatedly to her aid for nearly an hour, asking them the same questions over and over. And then, to make matters worse, the de la Vegas had arrived about a half an hour earlier, all full of outrage and concern. Victoria had been very grateful she had taken the time to tidy herself up a bit before going downstairs to deal with de Soto. The thought of the two caballeros seeing her mussed hair and torn blouse, never mind the blood, made her queasy. 

"Well," she began, tamping down the urge to scream into the Alcalde's stupid face. "That. . .that man attacked me," she replied in a low monotone, staring across at Mendoza's scuffed boots, afraid if she looked anywhere else, they might see in her eyes what had been done to her. "There was a big fight." 

"And which one of you killed him?" the commandante inquired of the trio of men who stood awkwardly around the body of her attacker, still laid out on the tavern floor. 

Victoria tuned out the rest of interview. Her attention was drawn away from her perusal of the portly sergeant's boot though as she heard the words ‘three thousand pesos' and the name Jose Baquero. She paid no heed to the claims of each of the three rescuers that he had killed her attacker. Jose Baquero. Evidently that was the true name of the man who had. . . _Don't think_ , she scolded herself. _Don't feel._

Victoria became conscious that de Soto was staring expectantly at her again. "Señorita," he said in an exasperated tone, which meant he had already posed this question to her, "which man dealt the fatal blow?" 

"I really don't know," she answered truthfully, the bits and pieces of the battle flashing through her mind. "It was a terrible fight. There was so much confusion. I really can't say." She ended her words with as casual a shrug as she could muster before withdrawing into herself again. 

"Alcalde, um. . ." The sound of Diego's voice startled Victoria out of her detachment. Inexplicably she had been aware of his presence by her side even when she had shut out everyone else. And it was both comforting and disturbing. 

"Since it may well be impossible to prove which of these men is actually responsible for Baquero's death," Diego continued addressing the commandante, "perhaps they could share the reward money." 

A spontaneous smile came to Victoria's lips, which just as quickly disappeared. Trust Diego to play the diplomat, she thought appreciatively as the others all agreed to his suggestion. 

"All right," said de Soto. "I'll divvy up the reward money to all three of you once it arrives from Monterey." He turned to Mendoza who stood next to him. "Sergeant." 

Victoria sighed with relief as the stout soldier motioned to the two lancers who had been waiting next to the bar. She stared one last time at the face of the cerdo who had robbed her of her innocence before turning away. Don't think, don't feel, she admonished herself yet again. 

"Victoria." Diego's voice interrupted her mental rebuking. She spun around but kept her eyes lowered. For some reason, the thought of tall caballero learning of what had happened to her caused a frisson of distress to course through her. 

"I'm all right," she lied, answering the query she had heard in his tone. 

"I think you should come stay at the hacienda," offered Don Alejandro, reaching out toward her shoulder. Victoria shrank away from his hand, then chastised herself. Good heavens, the old don would never hurt her, he had thought of her as a daughter for years. But yet. . . The notion of anyone touching her right then made her feel violently ill. 

She turned abruptly and walked behind the bar, deliberately using it as a barricade between the well-meaning de la Vega men and herself. "Thank you, Don Alejandro," she replied, proud that the earlier quaver in her voice had disappeared. "But no. I'll be fine." 

"All right, then," the elder de la Vega agreed, with some reluctance she noticed. "Let us know right away if you need anything." 

"I will. _Gracias_." Victoria picked up a glass and made a show of wiping it out, hoping they would take the hint and leave. 

" _Adios_ ," the old don said as he turned toward the door, motioning for his son to follow. But Diego stayed where he was, the intensity of his eyes on her making her squirm inwardly. 

"Victoria," he uttered in a low voice. "I. . .um. . ." 

"Diego, I am fine," she cut him off, not bothering to keep her vexation from her words. She lifted her gaze as far as his mouth, still not wanting to face him, or anyone really. But especially him, a little voice in her head chimed in. She ignored it as she watched his chin bob as he spoke. 

"Very well," he said tiredly. " _Buenas noches_." 

After his departure, Victoria set down the glass she had been cleaning. Spying under the counter a bottle of wine that was half full, she grabbed it and shakily poured it into the cup. Just one drink, she vowed, just one to help calm her nerves. 

She lifted the glass to her lips and took a tentative sip, then drained the red liquid. Setting the cup onto the counter, she refilled it. Just one more, she promised herself before she drank down the wine in one mouthful. 

A hazy feeling of numbness descended upon her as the alcohol began to take effect. Ignoring the pledge she had made only seconds before, she poured a third measure of the rich red wine. She picked up the glass and slowly sipped it this time, savoring it as it dulled her senses even further. 

After the fourth cupful, she lost count.

Z Z Z


	3. Chapter 3

It had been a quiet ride back to the de la Vega hacienda. Diego, of course, knew why he wasn't in the mood to discuss what had occurred that evening, but it surprised him his father was being reticent on the events at the tavern as well.

The silence lasted until they had reached the hacienda stables and had turned their horses over to one of the stable hands. "Diego," the elder de la Vega said as they walked toward the house.

"Yes?" Diego noticed that his father appeared to be mulling over what he would say next, a rare occasion for the old don, who usually had no compunction speaking his mind.

"Did. . .did Victoria seem. . .well, a bit odd to you this evening?" Don Alejandro finally asked as they reached the front doors.

Diego was unsure as how to answer. Yes, Victoria had not been herself during the Alcalde's questioning, her lack of emotion obvious to anyone who was even the slightest acquaintance with her. But only he knew the reason why. And he knew without a doubt the lovely innkeeper would not appreciate anyone else knowing the reason for her unusually passive behavior. 

"Uh. . .I didn't notice," he lied, shrugging in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner as they walked inside the hacienda. "I mean other than the fact she was shaken by being attacked and that a man was killed in her tavern, of course. Why?"

"I just thought she was rather subdued," replied Don Alejandro. "But as you say, she had good reason to be."

_More than you'll ever know_ , Diego agreed bitterly. 

"I still wish she would have come back here with us," the old don stated, shaking his head. "To think of her there at the tavern. . .all by herself. . ."

"Victoria will be fine," Diego declared, perjuring himself once again. "Baquero won't be bothering anyone ever again." That fact was the only consolation he could take from the whole wretched business.

The old don barely stifled a huge yawn, then gripped Diego's shoulder for a second before letting go. "Well, I'm off to bed." He looked expectantly at his son.

"I think I'll stay up and read for a while longer," Diego replied to the unasked question. "Good night, Father."

" _Buenas noches_." The elder de la Vega nodded tersely then turned in the direction of his bed chamber. Diego sat down on the settee in the library as soon as the old don disappeared, not even bothering to grab a book so he could pretend to peruse it. Burying his face in his hands, he allowed himself a few moments to wallow in his pain.

So lost in his misery, Diego didn't notice Felipe had slipped into the room until the lad touched him lightly on the arm. Reluctantly he sat up and watched as the youth flashed a series of hand gestures which he punctuated with lifting his left eyebrow.

Diego had known Felipe would be brimming with curiosity about the evening's adventures. But he would never be able to discuss all that had happened with anyone, even with the young man who knew the rest of his secrets.

"It's a long story, Felipe," he finally answered, "and it's late and you should have been in bed a long time ago." Diego got to his feet and made a show of stretching. "No arguments," he added as the lad looked about to protest. "I'll tell you everything in the morning, I promise."

There was only a slight twinge to his conscience as he lied for what seemed the hundredth time that night. He was grateful the clearly disappointed youth nodded then hied off to his room. Diego then made his way to his own bedroom.

Several hours later, Diego arose from his bed, abandoning his futile efforts to sleep. Images of Victoria and what she had had to endure kept crowding his mind as he paced back and forth across his room. He wanted to ride back to the pueblo and check on her. To make sure for his own peace of mind she was coping. 

Diego did not think Victoria would do something as rash as suicide, but he knew she was hurting. Knew the anguish she must be suffering. And it was torturing him to think she was all alone. Who knew what hellish place she might sink into, left to her own devices.

But he knew without a doubt Zorro was the last person she wanted to see right now. And Diego de la Vega would not be high on her list either. 

He sat back down on his mattress and sighed with frustration. There was really nothing he could do. What had been done could never be reversed. No amount of heroics would change anything. Diego stretched out on his bed and closed his eyes, praying no one else learned the truth of exactly had occurred that night.

Z Z Z

_Dios mio_ , what was that awful pounding? Victoria cracked open one eye and realized it was her head. Dazzling light made her quickly close her eyelid. Then she heard a loud knocking sound unrelated to the throbbing in her brain.

_What on earth?_ Victoria hesitantly glanced at the clock on her bedside table. Eight o'clock! She should have been awake hours ago. And why did her tongue feel and taste as if she had cleaned the tavern floor with it? She stirred in her sheets and felt a wad of padding shift between her legs.

Then her confusion dissipated and she _remembered_. Remembered every agonizing detail from the previous evening. Except how she had made it to her quarters. Tentatively she sat up, and when the room stopped tilting, she swung her legs over the side of her bed. Her foot landed on something hard and Victoria looked down as an empty wine bottle skittered across the floor. 

No wonder her brain was so fuzzy, she thought as she recalled drinking several glasses of wine. It also explained why she was still dressed in her blouse and skirt instead of her nightgown. She must have stumbled up to her room and passed out.

"Senorita Escalante?" The words were followed by light rapping on her bedroom door. "Victoria?"

She recognized the voice of her longest standing employee, Alicia. " _Un momento_ ," she called out as loudly as she could without causing the hammering in her head to grow worse. Using the bed to steady herself, Victoria stood. Again she felt the old chemise she had wadded up between her legs move and she knew she was still bleeding.

Victoria took a deep breath before going over to the vanity and peering into its mirror. Her clothing was badly rumpled and her hair looked as if birds had made a nest of it. Purple shadows under her eyes matched the bruise on the lower left side of her face. She touched it gingerly and flinched at its unexpected tenderness.

Her inspection was interrupted as another tap sounded on the door. "Victoria?" This time she could hear a note of panic in Alicia's voice. Oh dear, she thought as she recalled the broken railing and the broken door and the blood on the floor. . . _Madre de Dios, blood_. She couldn't remember, as horror rose within her, if there had been any blood on the bed. The bed where she had been. . .

_Don't think. Don't feel_. Victoria took a deep breath. Then another. After the third, she told herself, " _I can do this. I have to do this_." She had to go out and pretend t nothing extraordinary had happened, even though all she wanted to do was crawl back into her bed and pull the covers over her head, never facing anyone ever again. 

Instead she unsteadily made her way over to the bedroom door and opened it just a sliver. Victoria again heard the sound of hammers but this time they were not in her head. She glanced upward and saw her three would-be saviors from the previous evening repairing the broken railing.

"They showed up about an hour ago,"said Alicia, answering Victoria's unasked question, "with a wagon load of lumber. They said it was the least they could do since it was their fault it got broken in the first place."

Victoria stared at the men as they worked, her resentment of their belated rescue somewhat appeased by their reparations. She did wonder for a moment how they could afford the wood but then realized they probably borrowed against the reward they were to receive for killing Baquero. A shudder ran through her as she turned her attention back to her employee.

"I've scrubbed the tavern floor this morning," Alicia volunteered, allaying another of Victoria's worries. "We can open up now if you want."

" _Si_ , that will be fine," Victoria acquiesced indifferently. "I'll be down shortly." She started to close the door but stopped as her third concern suddenly flitted through her mind. 

"I've also cleaned out the room," the employee stated, unnerving Victoria that Alicia knew so much of the previous night's events. Hopefully she didn't know quite everything that had happened. "Sergeant Mendoza has also been here, claiming the dead man's belongings. I didn't think you would want. . ."

"No, no, that's fine," Victoria interrupted as her stomach roiled and her legs began quaking. " _Gracias_ , Alicia." 

The other woman nodded as Victoria shut the door before turning around and leaning against it. She closed her eyes. _I can do this_ , she reminded herself again. _I have to do this_. Opening her eyes, she made her way over to the armoire holding her clothing and began to make herself presentable for the day.

Z Z Z

Diego had finally fallen asleep near dawn and had arisen much later than he had intended to that day. Then, what with Felipe's lessons and helping the farrier shoe some of the horses, it was very late in the afternoon before he strolled into the taverna to check on Victoria.

After he crossed the threshold, Diego came to a sudden halt. Barely registering that Felipe; who had been dogging his footsteps most of the day; crashed clumsily into his back, he was stunned to see the room filled with customers, eating, drinking, talking, laughing. His eyes scanned what he could see of the floor then his gaze turned upward. The balcony railing had obviously been repaired and the pool of Baquero's blood had been scrubbed clean in his absence. Diego just prayed Victoria had not been the one who had performed that last task.

It was incredible, he thought as he moved forward, it was as if nothing untoward had occurred here. That no one had been killed by three men who were just defending a woman's honor but who now had that man's death on their consciences. As if the woman he love had not been assaulted and rap. . . 

Don't think, don't feel, he reminded himself. He must be able to act as though he did not know all of the events of the prior evening. He had to be careful to give nothing away, for if Victoria learned of his knowledge, she would also be able to piece together he was Zorro, the only other person who knew the truth.

Diego quickly noticed it was Pilar and Alicia, Victoria's helpers, were the ones serving and dealing with the inn's customers. He wondered where Victoria was; in her quarters, unable to deal with her ordeal or. . .?

His question was answered as he glimpsed her raven curls through the kitchen curtain. Glad she had not succumbed to melancholy, he moved toward the draperies. But before Diego took another step, however, Felipe tapped him on the arm. "Yes, go find us a table," Diego answered the lad's signaled inquiry. "I'll be there shortly."

Felipe gave him a somewhat mutinous look before loping off to find an empty table. Diego shook his head. Ever since he had told the youth the edited version of Baquero's demise, Felipe had been pestering him about it. It was if the young man knew Diego was not telling him the whole story.

Shrugging, Diego brushed aside a serape curtain and entered the kitchen. Victoria had her back to him, tending to something on the hearth. He took in the long sleeved white blouse she wore despite it being a warm day both outside and inside the tavern and knew she was wearing it because of the bruising on her wrists.

"The soup's almost ready," she announced without turning around, clearly thinking it was one of her employees who had entered the room. 

"Excellent, I'll take a bowl, _por favor_ ," Diego said with a touch of humor in his voice that surprised him. And it certainly startled Victoria. She dropped the spoon she had been holding and it clattered loudly against the soup pot.

" _Dios mio_ , Diego," she gasped as she spun around to face him. She look so alarmed that Diego was immediately contrite.

"Sorry, Victoria," he apologized. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"I'm fine, just fine," she snapped as she bent down to pick up the fallen utensil. After Victoria set it on the table, she turned her attention to making the tamales whose ingredients were sitting upon the smooth wooden surface. 

"Father wanted to send some of our ranch hands and lumber to fix the railing, but it looks like someone else beat him to it."

" _S_ , they were here first thing this morning." Victoria did not look up from her task as she spoke.

Diego could see the dark purple bruises that surrounded both wrists despite the long sleeves on her blouse as her fingers nimbly folded the corn husks. And even though she kept her head bowed, he noted the dark circles under her eyes and the bruises on her face.

Raw anger boiled up inside of him again, once again thankful the man who had dared touched his _querida_ so brutally was already dead. But it was extremely frustrating he had nowhere to vent his fury. Diego clenched his fists as he tried to regain his composure.

"Is there something else you want, Diego?" Victoria asked, breaking several moments of uneasy silence. "Besides a bowl of soup, that is."

Diego could think of several things he wanted at that moment, firstly that the previous night's events could be erased. He wanted that far more than a bowl of soup. But he could never let her know he knew. "Uh, um, no," he faltered, realizing she was waiting for his reply. "Oh, wait. A bowl for Felipe. He's holding a table for us. He and I, I mean. Not you. . ." He trailed off, inwardly cringing at his inane babbling. He had to get out of there before his emotions got the better of him.

Victoria didn't seem to notice. Nodding, she said, "I'll send one of the girls out when the soup is ready." 

" _Gracias_ ," said Diego who then turned and fled the kitchen. Feeling like the most dastardly of cowards, he sought out Felipe who was sitting at a nearby table with a bored expression on his young face. He sat down opposite the youth and shoved his face into his hands for a second before raking them through his hair.

When he raised his head, Felipe was staring at him inquisitively. "I hope you wanted soup for lunch," Diego said with false cheerfulness.

Z Z Z

As soon as Diego had left the kitchen, Victoria wiped off her hands and took a deep breath. She felt bad she had been so curt with Diego. But she just could not deal with him or anyone else for that matter. Picking up the glass of wine she had hidden behind a clay pot, Victoria took a large swallow from it.

It was just for her nerves, she told herself. Just to help her get through this. She would not have made it this far through the day without its relaxing effects.

After taking another long drink, Victoria went over to check on the bubbling kettle over the hearth. Satisfied it was done, she got out a tray and two bowls then filled each with the steaming _albondigas_ soup.

Z Z Z


	4. Chapter 4

It had been without a doubt the longest month of Diego's life. Or at least it had felt like it. Unfortunately it had coincided with one of those rare lulls of activity at the hacienda. All the cattle had been branded, sold, or moved to a different pasture. Everything that could be had been harvested, pruned, or weeded. There had not been any criminals about causing trouble and de Soto had been behaving himself, so Zorro's presence hadn't been required.

Which also meant the masked man had had no contact with Victoria since that fateful evening. Which was as well, for he doubted she could handle facing Zorro. He himself didn't know how he was going to deal with seeing her again as his alter ego, with the knowledge of what had happened between them. In the handful of conversations Diego had had with the lovely innkeeper, there had been none of the usual disappointed sighing about Zorro's absence from the pueblo. Indeed, when the man in black's name was mentioned, Victoria had visibly tensed and changed the subject.

The lack of anything to occupy him was driving Diego to distraction. There was entirely too much free time to dwell on what had happened to Victoria and his failure to prevent it.

And then. . .then there was Victoria herself. It was the most painful thing Diego had ever had to witness. The fiery, outgoing, vibrant innkeeper was no more. In her place was a pathetic being, one who was very fragile and timid. The bruises on her wrist and face had faded away, he noted as the days passed, but he also knew the damage on the inside was far from healing.

There were dark circles under her eyes betraying her lack of sleep. Her clothing hung loosely on her already petite frame, a sign she was not eating. Her skin had lost its rosy bloom, her hair was dull and lank. It was if she had stopped caring, about herself. . .or anything else for that matter, Diego thought as she poured him a glass of lemonade as he sat at a table on the tavern's front porch.

It had only been in the past week or so she had ventured from the kitchen. She still was skittish, preferring to wait on established, and in the case of men, older customers, he had noted. Today was actually the first time she had been outside since the ‘incident,' as he referred to it. A promising sign, he fervently hoped, she was finally on the road to recovery.

[Most of the following taken from "The Reward" written by Robert L McCullough & Philip John Taylor]

"Señorita," called one of the men from the opposite side of the veranda, "More tamales for the good sergeant, please."

Victoria barely glanced their way. Diego did look, however, and realized the men buying Mendoza his lunch where the three who had fought and accidentally killed Baquero. Spending money they did not yet have. He shook his head at their unwise generosity as Victoria disappeared into the tavern.

Rising to his feet, Diego drained his glass then walked over to the other table. He was warmly greeted by Paco and the others, although Mendoza only bobbed his head at him as his mouth was stuffed with a tamale.

"Paco, you've been buying lunches for everyone all week," Diego stated reprovingly.

Paco bristled at the disapproval in his tone. "Why not?" the younger man said, shrugging his shoulders. "When that reward money comes from Monterey, we're going to be rich men." The other two men nodded in agreement.

"Even a rich man doesn't spend money he doesn't yet have," Diego pointed out even though he knew his advice would fall on deaf ears. Indeed, already they were staring at something past him. Diego turned to see a man riding toward them. A stranger, he surmised swiftly as he watched the newcomer dismount his horse then remove his saddlebags. A stranger who seemed vaguely familiar, though Diego could not place him at the moment.

"That's him," Paco said excitedly to the sergeant who had paused in his eating long enough to assess the stranger as he entered the tavern. "The man from Monterey with the reward money."

Mendoza nodded a bit uncertainly. "I think so, Paco," he replied. "I'll go find out." He stood up, threw down his napkin, picked up his hat then followed the man inside. Diego's curiosity got the better of him and he moved closer to the doorway.

He saw Pilar pouring a drink for the newcomer as he stood in front of the bar, his saddlebags sitting upon the counter. Diego wondered, if the man was not the courier with the reward, what was in those bags the stranger would not allow them out of his sight?

Diego's suspicions grew as the portly sergeant introduced himself only to be blatantly ignored. Mendoza then leaned forward and in a whisper loud enough for even Diego to hear, asked,"Are you the man from Monterey who's bringing the money?"

The man glanced at the soldier contemptuously before taking a long drink from his glass, then banging it on the bar. "I'm not from Monterey," he announced. "I know nothing about any money." He turned his head from side to side, sweeping the interior. "Here to meet a friend," he continued in a clipped tone. "Maybe you see him, huh? Mean guy. Drinks a little. Goes by the name, uh. . ." The man paused a moment as if he was trying to remember his friend's name. "Lamarca."

There was a loud gasp. Diego looked up in time to see Victoria visibly pale. The tray in her hands rattled as she began to sway ominously. Slipping through the doorway, he was by her side in an instant.

And she wasn't the only one who shuddered at the utterance of the dead outlaw's alias. Mendoza gulped nervously before stating in a strangled voice, "Perhaps our alcalde can help you?"

The stranger stared suspiciously at the stout sergeant. "Your alcalde?" he asked incredulously.

"Oh, _si_ , he is a very friendly man," Mendoza declared with an air of assurance Diego recognized at once as false. "He knows everybody in the pueblo."

The soldier pointed a pudgy finger over his left shoulder. "His office is across the plaza."

" _Gracias_." The man smiled insincerely before picking up his glass and draining the remaining tequila. He then snatched up his saddlebags and strode out of the tavern. Mendoza hesitated a few seconds, long enough to watch the newcomer depart before trailing after him.

Diego glanced away from the entranceway to the woman who stood next to him. Victoria was still as white as a sheet, the platter of tamales she held trembling and in grave danger of spilling onto the floor.

"Victoria?" he inquired softly, extending his hand to touch her arm. She jumped, her eyes darting immediately to where his fingers rested on her skin. Slowly her gaze moved fleetingly to his face where he saw a tumult of emotions flicker in her dark brown eyes. With what sounded like a whimper, she abruptly turned on her heel and fled back into the kitchen.

Diego was torn. Part of him wanted to go after her. Reassure her he would make sure she was safe. Which was a laugh, a little voice in his head jeered sarcastically. You protected her so well before, didn't you?

Ignoring the painful regret in his heart, his other half acknowledged it wanted to find out who the insolent stranger was. The man who was at that moment no doubt learning his so-called friend was dead. One could only guess what his reaction would be.

That curiosity made Diego's decision for him. With one remorseful glance toward the tavern kitchen, he made his way back outside.

Z Z Z

The tray hit the table with a thud, the tamales spilling off their plate. Victoria barely noticed the mess created, instead wrapping her arms around herself.

_Don't think, don't fee_. . . The now familiar admonishment was shoved rudely aside as the painful memories came flooding into her mind. Every dreadful, mortifying moment tore through her. With an agonizing groan, she reached for the wine she kept secreted behind a clay pot and without bothering with a glass, took a long drink from it.

Shakily she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Dios, why did that man have to come to Los Angeles? Just when she was beginning to erase what had happened. Although, if she wanted to truthful with herself, she wasn't sure if her disquietude came from the fact the amigo of the cerdo who had. . .who had. . .violated. . .her had come to the pueblo or from the lack of revulsion she had felt when Diego had touched her. 

Victoria grabbed the wine and took another hearty swig. Then she glanced at her arm at where Diego's hand had rested, recalling the spark of awareness that had swept through her. It had been the first time anyone had touched her since. . .since. . .

It had been the first time in a month. Had it really been that long? A month? Victoria gasped as another thought occurred to her. No, that cannot be right, she told herself. Surely she must have. . .

Sheer panic along with bile rose within her, causing her to clutch at both her stomach and her mouth. No, she could not be. . . _Dios mio_ , it had to be impossible. . .

[Most of the following taken from "The Reward" written by Robert L McCullough & Philip John Taylor]

Loud thumps and scraping noises from the front porch drove all the distressing thoughts from her head. She rushed out of the kitchen and out the main doorway. Victoria drew up short when she saw the stranger, Narcisco she thought he said his name was, pointing a pistol at Paco Ortega and the other two men who had ‘rescued' her. 

"These men have no quarrel with you." Diego's voice made her turn his direction. He seemed utterly calm, even when Narcisco aimed his weapon at the tall caballero's heart. Victoria took a small step to stand next to Diego. 

"Of course," Narcisco agreed with an insincere smile on his face. "What's the point of killing them when they're going to give me the three thousand pesos they got in reward for killing my friend.?"

Victoria's temper exploded. How dare this man, who was probably no better than his pig of a friend, try to steal the money Paco and the others deserved for ridding the world of that monster Baquero. "I don't think they should pay," she declared hotly, "not even one peso."

She felt Diego's eyes on her and snuck a quick glance at his face. Strange, but she could swear he was smiling.

"Oh, yes, they will," the gun-wielding man stated before targeting the trio of men once again. "By sundown or you don't see the sunrise."

Two of the men shrank back, fear clearing filling their eyes. Only Paco stood his ground. "We don't even have the money yet," he said in a unsteady tone. "It's still on its way from Monterey."

The disingenuous grin appeared on Narcisco's unshaven face once more. "Three thousand pesos by sundown or this is the only reward you'll ever see." He waved his pistol toward Paco, who immediately moved back a pace.

"Please, Señor," one of the men behind Paco pleaded. "I had nothing to do with your friend's death." He pointed at his companions. "It was them! They killed him!"

The third man raised his hands in the air before asserting, "I didn't even touch him! When the reward was offered, I just wanted the money."

_Cowards_ , thought Victoria. It was true she didn't remember much about the fight, but she had unmistakably seen all three of the men attacking Baquero. That they would lie about their involvement now that they were face with a little adversity; all right, quite a lot of adversity, she acknowledged; somehow cheapened their actions that night, that her safety hadn't mattered. That they had only cared about the money. She glared at both of them until they had the decency to look away in shame.

"And you?" Narcisco trained his weapon on Paco. "You had no hand in my friend's death, huh?"

Victoria could see the beads of sweat forming on the young man's forehead and wondered if he, too, was about to deny any involvement in Baquero's death. 

"He attacked Victoria," Paco announced, straightening his shoulders. He looked over at her as he continued, "I would kill him again if I had to." She could see the fear in his eyes and silently applauded his courage in standing up to this bully.

"Brave words," Narcisco sneered. "They mean nothing. Sundown. The pueblo gates." He started to back away then hesitated. "Oh, bring a gun."

Paco turned his gaze from Victoria but not before she saw the panic there. "But. . .but I don't even own a gun," he stammered.

The other man pulled another pistol from his belt and tossed it onto the table, where it landed with an ominous thud. "You do now." He began retreating again toward his horse. No one said a word until he had ridden out of the pueblo.

Victoria glanced up at Diego, who wore an uncharacteristic expression of fury on his face as he watched the troublemaker disappear from sight. Then as he turned and looked at her, it was if a mask slid down over his features, dissipating his anger and replacing it with an air of boredom. Baffled, and a bit irritated, by the sudden change, she shook her head as if to clear it.

"Diego, we have to do something," she said beseechingly. She just could not allow Paco be killed by that bastardo. Without realizing what she was doing, she reached out and touched his arm. At once, Paco, Narcisco, the challenge, everything, was forgotten, as a jolt shot through her whole body, leaving her a bit breathless. She glanced up at Diego and saw he was similarly affected by the contact. There was a flare of something in his eyes she could not name before another veil glided over his face and he was smiling vaguely at her.

"Um, yes," he agreed casually. "I'm going to tell my father."

"Your father?" Victoria clutched his arm tighter. She didn't want him to go anywhere. An idea was forming in her mind. A horrible, terrible idea to be sure. If what she suspected was true ( _and please God let it not be_ ). . . Well, Diego just might be the solution to her problem.

He was staring down at her with a mixture of concern and surprise. Bringing his free hand to rest on top of hers for a brief moment, he took a deep breath before giving her hand a gentle pat then removing it from his arm. " _Si_ , my father," he repeated, "he'll know what to do."

"Of course," Victoria murmured absently. Diego stepped off the tavern porch and she watched as he mounted his horse and rode away.

As soon as he was out of sight, Victoria swirled around and re-entered the tavern, purposefully making her way to the kitchen. Her bottle of wine sat on the table where she had left it. Without hesitating, she reached for it and the comfort it would provide, the courage it gave her, the oblivion she desperately sought. 

Feeling a bit dizzy, she plopped down on a bench and glanced at the nearly empty bottle in her hand, realizing it had just been opened that morning. She had nearly drank a whole bottle of wine without even being aware of it. " _Madre de Dios_ ," she whispered.

She knew it was false comfort. She knew it was false courage. And the oblivion was never complete. Reality still would creep in and strip away all her defenses. Defiantly she lifted the bottle to her lips and drank what little it yet contained.

She was going to need every bit of comfort, courage, and oblivion she could muster if she intended to go through with the vile plan that had come to her when she had been with Diego moments earlier. 

Her courses were late. She was never late, never had been since they had begun when she was thirteen. Victoria feared, deep down, she carried the child of her rapist.

Z Z Z


	5. Chapter 5

[part of the following taken from "The Reward" written by Robert L McCullough & Philip John Taylor]

Zorro crouched on top of the pueblo gate, watching as the sun sank below the western horizon. Any minute now Narcisco would appear and threaten to kill Paco Garcia for three thousand pesos. An heinous act the alcalde was going to allow to happen.

Don Alejandro had earlier rode into town to demand de Soto do something about the deadly confrontation, but the commandante had refused, saying the military did not involve itself in gossip or petty, personal squabbles.

But the masked man knew better than that. He also remembered why Narcisco had seemed so familiar. There was a price on his head, too; two thousand pesos. Not as much as his friend Baquero, but enough the alcalde thought to get his hands on both bounties, by allowing Narcisco to murder Paco, then arresting him and claiming all the glory.

Zorro sighed, growing impatient as the seconds ticked down. He let his mind drift, to more pleasant thoughts. Like Victoria's behavior that afternoon. A smile twitched his lips as he recalled seeing a spark once again in her eyes. The one that said she cared, that she was alive. That she was emerging from the dark shadows in which she had been hiding for the past month. She had been more like the old Victoria for those few moments on the tavern porch. His Victoria.

His musings about the woman he loved were interrupted by the sounds of people moving toward the gate. Paco came into view first, awkwardly carrying the pistol Narcisco had insisted he take. The young farmer was followed by at least half of Los Angeles's residents.

Narrowing his eyes, the masked man spotted Victoria walking near the rear of the crowd, an inscrutable expression on her lovely face. The people came to halt as Paco stopped in front of the archway. It wasn't long until Narcisco emerged from an alleyway and made his way through the throng.

Zorro paid little attention to the exchange between the two men. Not until Victoria came forward to stand beside Paco. "He doesn't have to defend himself," she stated angrily to Narcisco.

Both men cocked their pistols, Paco quite ineptly. Narcisco aimed his weapon at the other man's head. "Be quiet, woman," he growled.

"If you're going to shoot him, you're going to have to shoot us all," declared Victoria, hands on her hips. Zorro cringed at her recklessness, especially when Narcisco pointed his gun in her direction. 

"As you wish, Señorita."

The man in black had seen and heard enough. Quietly as a panther, he jumped from the top of gate, and after uncoiling his whip, wrapped it around Narcisco's left leg then tugged hard. The other man fell flat on his back. He immediately got up onto his knees and waved his hand in Paco's direction. "He killed my friend."

"Your friend was a man of violence," Zorro snarled back, "whose death was caused by his own deeds."

"He must pay," said Narcisco, shrugging before he rose up onto one knee. Whirling around, he fired at Paco, missing as the young farmer ducked out of the way. Unfortunately, Paco dropped his pistol as he dodged the lethal bullet. 

Zorro unceremoniously shoved the younger man out of the way as Narcisco drew out his sword and lunged. The man in black deftly unsheathed his saber and deflected the criminal's blade at the last second. The crowd cheered on their hero as he quickly gained the advantage.

An advantage that was almost lost when Zorro was distracted by the cocking of a gun nearby. Expecting to see the alcalde or one of the lancers, his mouth dropped open when he saw just who it was holding the weapon.

Z Z Z

Victoria had stared at the pistol Paco had let fall to the ground, as the chaos of the fight swirled around her. With a bit of hesitation, she reached down and picked it up. A wave of righteous fury had swept over as she held the unfamiliar piece of metal in her hand. She glanced up at Narcisco who was being soundly trounced by the man in black. 

Why should this pig be allowed to live? she asked herself as she stared at the outlaw. Narcisco's features began to blur with Baquero's, the man who had violated her. Victoria shook her head slightly to rid herself of that vision. When it persisted, she knew what she had to do. Using both hands, she brought up the weapon, cocked the hammer, and aimed it directly at Narcisco's black heart. At once, all the commotion surrounding her came to an immediate halt.

" _Cerdo_ ," she said unemotionally, narrowing her eyes as she tightened her grip. 

Her target visibly gulped. "Put down the gun, Señorita," he suggested, raising his hands slightly in a gesture of surrender. "Before somebody gets hurts."

"It's too late," Victoria murmured to herself. Then raising her voice, she said, "Leave Los Angeles and never come back."

"Or what?" Narcisco asked insolently, apparently regaining some of his swagger. "You're going to shoot me?"

" _Si_ ," she said determinedly, as his contempt enraged her even further. Her index finger twitched nervously on the trigger. "I'll shoot you like the filthy rat you are."

"Victoria." She heard the urgent plea in Zorro's voice but she chose to ignore it. . .and him.

"You don't deserve to live," she declared, taking a step away from the masked man and closer to the focus of her anger. "You and your. . .your _friend_ ," she spat bitterly, "you both deserve to die."

But she knew at that moment she would not be the one who killed the man before her. She was not going to have his death on her already overburdened conscience.

But, oh, she was going to make him feel pain. Not nearly as much as she had, but a healthy dose of it, nonetheless.

Victoria moved slowly until she was an arm's length away from Narcisco. " _Cerdo_ ," she reiterated. Then she swung the pistol still gripped in both hands and walloped him upside his head. A stunned expression came over his scruffy face just before he dropped like a stone.

"Victoria." Noting the even more insistent tone in his voice, she swirled around to face Zorro. "Put down the gun, _por favor_ ," he said politely, lifting his hands vaguely in the air as the weapon she yet held was aimed in his direction.

" _Callarse_." Victoria stepped toward the man in black. "You. . . You think you can just ride into town and fix everything then go on your merry little way," she stated. She saw a look of astonishment in his eyes and narrowed her own. "But you cannot. Just leave me alone, Zorro. I don't need or want your kind of help anymore."

Abruptly conscious of her plan to remedy her dilemma, she knew she had to make a clean break with the man before her, aware he would never be the solution she needed. Reaching into the neckline of her blouse, she yanked out the emerald and diamond ring that had been pinned to her chemise and threw it at his feet. The masked man instantly scooped it up then stared at her in disbelief.

She then tossed the gun down at his boots, turned and walked back across the plaza, paying little attention to the gasps and murmurs she left in her wake. The whisperings turned to shouts as Victoria entered her tavern. Her stomach was churning so badly that she was barely aware of the few patrons who had chosen to remain inside instead of witnessing the spectacle no doubt taking place outside.

Mercifully, the kitchen was empty as she rushed over to the sink and threw up. _Dios mio_ , another sign of her dreadful predicament. As soon as her nausea passed, Victoria poured herself a generous helping of wine. Raising it shakily to her lips, she drank about half the glass. 

As its warmth spread through her, calming her strained nerves, she heard footfalls and laughter coming nearer. Whatever had been left of the drama out in the plaza must be over, Victoria mused. And as always, people seemed to be hungry and thirsty after Zorro came to the pueblo and performed his heroic deeds, she thought sarcastically.

Downing the rest of her drink, she then hid the wine bottle in its usual place and went over to clean up the mess in the sink before her establishment was overrun with customers.

Z Z Z

Diego sat in the tavern later that evening, sharing a table and a meal with Sergeant Mendoza, who was regaling him with tales of the confrontation earlier that day. Neither his father nor Felipe had accompanied him to town. Don Alejandro was working on his accounts, and Felipe was supposed to be reading Shakespeare's play Othello in English. Although Diego had his doubts that the lad was actually doing that. More likely he was in the cave, grooming Toronado or fooling around with Zorro's saber.

Mendoza was telling his version of events between mouthfuls of tamales. "Zorro had Narcisco beaten," he related before leaning in closer and darting his eyes around the room. "Then Señorita Victoria picked up Paco's gun, said he didn't deserve to live, then hit him in the head."

Still a little unnerved by the idea Victoria had almost shot someone in such a violent display of temper, Diego merely nodded. He also hadn't realized the good sergeant had been close enough to witness the incongruous scenario.

"Then," the soldier continued in a whisper, glancing about once again, "she pointed the gun at Zorro and told him to leave her alone." He sat back in his chair and dug heartily into his meal.

Oh, yes, Diego remembered exactly every word she had said to the man in black. For each one of them had been like a sword piercing his heart. And when she had thrown his mother's ring at him, it had felt like a fatal blow. It hadn't been mentioned, but by that gesture he imagined she considered her engagement with Zorro at an end.

That she blamed the masked man for what had happened to her wasn't surprising, for he blamed himself as well. When she had stated Zorro couldn't fix everything, he had seen such venom in her eyes. It had been quite chilling. He looked over toward the tavern's kitchen, where he could see her moving to and fro. 

It was several moments later, when he tore his gaze away from watching Victoria, he realized that Mendoza had resumed his narrative. "Then she threw something at Zorro and walked off," the stout sergeant stated. "I couldn't see what it was, Zorro picked it up too fast.

"Anyway," the lancer continued, "Narcisco was knocked out. Zorro handed Paco the gun and told him to keep it on him. Then he whistled for his horse and rode off." He shoveled another forkful into his mouth. "There was no way we could get to him. Everyone kept getting in our way. The alcalde was so angry."

Taking a sip of his _albondigas_ soup, Diego mulled over the rest of the day's events. He was grateful Narcisco was safely locked up in the cuartel. And that Paco Ortega was going to receive the rewards for both of the outlaws. He had had a little talk with the young farmer and convinced him to spend his windfall wisely. No more free lunches for Mendoza, much to the good sergeant's dismay.

Diego suppressed a smile as Alicia yawned when she came by to take away his empty soup bowl, then had to wait as Mendoza scraped his plate clean. Clearly a sign that the tavern was closing and its employees wanted to go home.

Mendoza must have got the hint as well, for he stood up, stretched, then rubbed his stomach. "Well, _buenas noches_ , Don Diego," he said drowsily.

"Good night, Sergeant." Diego watched as the soldier made his out of the building, noticing that the remaining guests followed the portly lancer. Time he left, too, he told himself.

He had untied Esperanza from the hitching post and stood beside her, ready to swing up into the saddle, when the front door of the tavern opened and Victoria stepped out onto the porch.

"Diego?" she asked guardedly. 

" _Si_?"

"I wonder if you could help me," she said quietly. "I opened my bedroom window earlier hoping to catch a cool breeze and now I cannot get it shut again. Could you come and see why it won't close, _por favor_?"

"Of course," he replied immediately. "Give me a moment." He indicated the reins in his hand and she nodded. 

"I'll wait upstairs," she said before turning and going back inside.

Diego tethered his mare to the railing once more. "I'll be back in a minute, old girl," he assured the horse, giving her a pat on the nose. 

Upon entering the tavern, he was surprised at how quiet and dark it had become in the matter of a just few minutes. Shrugging, Diego made his way up the short flight of stairs that led to Victoria's quarters. 

A wry smile came to his face as he thought about how he had not been inside the tavern's private rooms since he was a young lad. Well, not through the front door anyway. Zorro had always used the window. A dark shadow passed over his mind, recalling how Victoria had flung the engagement ring back at him. The man in black wouldn't be invited into her rooms for a very long time, if ever.

The door was closed when he reached the top of the stairs, so he knocked. "Come in," came the soft reply.

Diego opened the door, took a step inside, then stopped dead in his tracks.

Victoria stood facing him, wearing nothing but her chemise. He could do nothing but stare as she untied its ribbons and it fell to the floor.

Z Z Z


	6. Chapter 6

Victoria had never before in her life been so afraid. Afraid Diego would turn around and walk out the door. Afraid, too, he would stay and. . . She shivered slightly, hoping it was because of the cool night air on her bare skin, and not because of her growing. . .what? Anxiety - because she was unsure if she could go through with her plan? Annoyance - that Diego was just standing there with a shocked expression? Anticipation - no, surely not that. . .? Although the thought of Diego touching her, kissing her, caused something to stir deep inside her. Shaking her head, Victoria blamed the half bottle of wine she had consumed throughout the evening to pluck up her courage for the strange direction of her wayward thoughts.

Then Diego took a step forward, driving away all her swirling emotions, and closed her bedroom door behind him. "V-Victoria?" he asked in a strangled voice.

"Lock it," she said before taking a deep breath to quell any lingering doubts about her decision. She had to do this. She really had no choice. "Please," she added when she noticed Diego's hesitation to obey her request.

He wavered for what seemed like an hour before finally twisting the key in the lock. All the while, his eyes never strayed from hers, the look of astonishment never leaving his face.

"Victoria?" he inquired again. "What. . .? W-Why. . .?"

She bit her lip uncertainly, wondering why he was just standing there, staring and stammering and stuttering. Why wasn't he dragging her over to the bed and having his way with her? He was obviously attracted to her, evidenced by the bulge growing in the front of his trousers.

Then it dawned on her maybe Diego had never been with a woman before, that he was a virgin. She twisted her mouth bitterly as the irony of the situation struck her. He had to know what went on between a man and woman, if not in practice, then in theory, which he had undoubtedly read about in some book.

Sighing heavily, Victoria determinedly closed the distance between them. "Please, Diego," she said beseechingly, placing her hand on his linen-clad chest. His surprisingly solid and quite muscular chest. A frisson of yearning shot through her and as if of their own accord, her fingers slid up then down the hard wall of his torso. 

"Victoria." Her name came out as a plea for mercy. Diego groaned softly, not knowing how much more he could take. He was still reeling from the sight of the woman he loved in her current state of undress. Part of him was demanding he act chivalrously; politely decline her blatant invitation then depart as quickly as possible. Another part of him, the one centered in his loins, was insistently urging to give her what she so unmistakably desired.

The logical portion of his mind was fighting to make itself heard above the clamoring of the others. Telling him there had to be an important reason why she was willing to do this, especially after what had happened to her. Perhaps she needed this so she could obliterate the devastating encounter from her memory, he rationalized. Perhaps it was something she needed to do in order to heal.

But why him, Diego de la Vega, someone she had always seen only as a friend (although he was extremely glad she had chosen him and not someone else for this. . .recklessness). And why now? It just seemed so random. Granted, it had been a rather tumultuous day. Maybe seeing the so-called friend of her attacker had caused the tight control in which she had cocooned herself to shatter. Still, it did feel unfair to take advantage. It was impossible to believe she was even aware of the consequences of what she wanted. 

Diego was so caught up in his internal struggle he did not realize Victoria had unbuttoned his shirt until she pressed herself against his exposed skin. _Madre de Dios!_ Involuntarily he raised his hands, unclenching the fists he hadn't known he had been making, and placed them on her shoulders. Her very soft and silky shoulders.

Any notion of resistance disintegrated at that moment. He had loved her for so long, that anything she needed, whether it be right or wrong, he wanted to give her. Diego swept her up into his arms and carried her over to the bed, carefully placing her onto it. He wrenched off his shirt, flinging it to the ground, then reached for the fastenings of his trousers. His fingers stilled, however, when he saw a fleeting look of trepidation upon Victoria's face.

_Idiot_ , he scolded himself, recognizing he was angry at himself for falling so heedlessly into her ruse. But he had to remember she was extremely vulnerable and it was up to him to exorcize her demons. She was placing her trust in his hands and he knew, deep in his heart, he had to accept it, even though everything he was about to do went against his principles. He would be the true taker of her innocence, an innocence she erroneously thought already had been destroyed. 

Diego sat down on the mattress and slowly took off his boots, letting each one drop to the floor as he removed it. A feeling of awkwardness suddenly hit him and he was reluctant to turn and face Victoria. His uneasiness swiftly transformed to lust as one of her hands began stroking the length of his spine.

Victoria wondered at the crisscrossing marks on Diego's back. They appeared to be newly healed. Softly, her fingers traced the pinkish white welts. Feeling his muscles tense under her touch, she quieted her exploration.

He then twisted around to face her, an inscrutable expression on his face. "Vic. . ." She interrupted him by placing her right index finger against his lips. She was afraid she would lose her nerve if he uttered even one more syllable.

Entwining her arms around Diego's neck, Victoria leaned forward, intending to kiss him. At the last second, Diego moved his head and her mouth landed on his cheek instead.. The stubble there tickled Victoria's lips, reminding her of Zorro's usually unshaven face when he paid her a late night visit.

Thoughts of the masked man were driven from her mind as Diego kissed a spot behind her ear. His mouth lingered there for a brief moment before continuing down the length of her neck to her shoulder. A flame of desire sparked deep inside Victoria as he slowly skimmed his hands up her body, cupping her breasts. He lowered his head to flick his tongue over one of her nipples then the other before taking the rosy pebble into his mouth, leaving her breathless as another jolt of longing spiraled through her.

His left hand drifted down her smooth skin, stopping when it reached the dark curls at the apex of her thighs. Victoria trembled slightly, with anticipation and also just a tiny bit of fear. Diego stopped and searched her face. She smiled up at him in what she hoped was a reassuring manner, even though she was far from feeling certain herself. It must have been convincing enough as he smiled back at her, his relief obvious. Renewing his exploration, he slipped a finger into her moistening folds. He searched for and found the small nub of flesh causing Victoria to gasp as he caressed it.

Diego felt her hands clasp at the waist of his trousers and was suddenly aware he was terribly overdressed. He unfastened them then shucked them off quickly with one hand while continuing to stroke Victoria with the other, bringing her to the brink of pleasure.

He gazed down at Victoria's beautiful face. She was breathing heavily and he could feel her heart beating as erratically as his own. He was afraid to say anything, afraid to break the spell that had woven itself around them. Shifting his weight, he moved over her, his swollen erection grazing her thigh. Victoria flinched violently and Diego mentally cursed himself as he saw the panic in her eyes, afraid she was recalling the brutal taking of her innocence. 

In one swift movement, he rolled onto his back, bringing her atop him. The look of terror disappeared from her face, replaced by one of curiosity. Diego recognized they had reached the point of no return, the place where this madness could be stopped; as painful as it might be; before irreparable harm could be done. But he needed, for his own peace of mind, to seek her consent before going any further. He had to know if this was what she truly wanted to do.

"Victoria," he rasped out. But she placed her finger against his lips before he could get the question out.

"Please, Diego," she beseeched him, her chocolate brown eyes staring pleadingly at him. "Please."

Z Z Z

Diego woke with a start. Disoriented, he glanced around frantically before running his hand over his face and up into his hair. It took him a second to grasp he was in Victoria's bedroom and that it was still dark, the nearly full moon shining through the window the only light. Another moment passed before he realized that Victoria was sleeping next to him, and they were both naked.

_Madre de Dios!_ It hadn't been a dream. They had made love. . .and more than once if he remembered correctly. His mouth curled mischievously as he recalled waking up earlier, still inside her with Victoria atop him moving tentatively, and smiling impishly when she realized he was awake. What had followed had been even better than the first time.

Diego gazed down at the sleeping Victoria, his head still reeling from the gloriousness of what had happened.. It had been everything he thought it would be, a mating of not just their bodies, but also of their hearts and souls. He was even more in love with her, if that were possible. He placed a light kiss on her forehead then inhaled deeply, taking in her unique scent of spices and roses.

He wished he could read her mind, wondering if their lovemaking had stirred similar feelings for her. The look of surprise and awe on her face when she reached her pinnacle the first time would be a memory he would never forget. But why had she seduced him? And why him? Why hadn't she tried to lure Zorro into her bed? Although unwittingly she had, Diego thought as he smiled wryly. His grin grew grim though as he realized she had come to the conclusion the masked man could never marry her. Had that been the reason behind the very public break with Zorro she had engineered that afternoon?

But before he could mull over her motives, he heard a plaintive neigh outside in the plaza, one, to his great dismay, that he instantly recognized. _Madre de Dios!_ Esperanza was still hitched to the railing in front of the tavern.

Quickly but quietly, Diego slid out from the bed sheets and began searching for his discarded clothing. It was probably too much to ask that no one had noticed his mare was in the plaza at such a late hour. Not that he felt any shame for what had occurred, but Victoria's reputation had always been an extremely fragile thing since the day she had taken over running the tavern. Only her good character and his father's protection had prevented her from being ruined long ago.

He hastily donned his shirt and trousers, deliberately leaving off his boots, which he picked up from the floor. Glancing at the beautiful woman sleeping in the bed, he was tempted to wake her to let her know he was leaving. Reaching out to touch her shoulder, Diego stopped himself a mere inch away, as it became crystal clear he should let her sleep. He needed to be on his way back to the hacienda. Now was not the time for a lengthy discussion about what had transpired, which would surely happen if he awakened her.

Diego moved stealthily to the bedroom door, nimbly opening the lock. Slowly opening the door, he was thankful the hinges were well-oiled. He crept down the stairs, making his way through the kitchen and out the back door where he put on his boots.

As he prowled through the shadows, Diego wished he was wearing his mask and cape. His sword would have been a nice addition, too, in case any lancers were out patrolling the pueblo. With a quick scan of the plaza, he snuck around to the front of the inn and began untying his horse. "Sorry, old girl," he muttered, running his hand down her nose. "Let's get you home, eh?"

It wasn't until he had ridden halfway to the hacienda when a troublesome thought suddenly came to mind. What if he had gotten Victoria pregnant? There was only one way he knew to prevent such consequences, and it hadn't even occurred to him to withdraw either time. He would have to marry her, of course, something he had been longing to do for years. He would just have to get her to agree, which hopefully wouldn't be too much of a challenge if she was in the family way.

A second, even more disturbing, possibility made his stomach churn. What if the reason that she had staged this seduction in the first place was that she was already with child. Diego brought his mount to a halt, sickened by the thought the woman he loved would do something so despicable as to trick him into thinking he was the father of another man's baby. 

It would be the desperate act, he recognized grudgingly, of a desperate woman. A woman who had been brutally raped and was now facing consequences beyond her control. It would be the end of the respectability she so precariously held on to if Victoria gave birth to a child out of wedlock. All of the years of hard work she had put in running the tavern would have been for naught, through no fault of her own.

With a weary sigh, Diego scolded himself for putting the cart before the horse with his dire speculation. There was no proof she was pregnant. She had said nothing to make him even suspect she was. Then again, he admitted with a heavy sigh, barely a word had passed between them all evening. 

Yet there had to be an explanation why she had enticed him up to her room and practically begged him to make love to her. Was it to erase the violent taking of her innocence with an experience with someone she knew would be kind and gentle? Or was it to give her unborn child a father, a father whom she hoped to deceive, possibly forever? And how could he ever be sure it wasn't his seed that had taken root tonight?

Diego reckoned he had a month, two at the most, before he would be able to learn some answers to his questions. He was not a gambling man, but it seemed as though the odds were stacked against him. Shaking his head wearily, he urged Esperanza forward again.

Z Z Z

Sunlight streaming through her bedroom finally roused Victoria from the very pleasant yet confusing dream she had been having. One where Zorro was kissing her as his hands caressed every inch of her body but just at the moment he would have joined their bodies together, his masked face blurred and then became Diego's.

Victoria sat up abruptly, spinning around to stare at her otherwise empty bed. She didn't know whether to be upset or glad Diego had slipped out sometime during the night without waking her. _Dios mio!_ What he must think of her, to so boldly lure him into her bed. She smiled blissfully as she remembered the time spent in his arms. It had been so wonderful and so unexpected she could not bring herself to regret a single moment.

Not many words passed between them, but Victoria now was certain Diego was in love with her. And probably had been for quite some time. It had been unsettling at first but then she had become aware that she had some feelings for him that were more than just friendship. That she might be more than a little in love with him herself.

With a glance at her bedside clock, she swung her feet out onto the floor, realizing she was still naked when the cool morning air hit her bare skin. Self-consciously, she made her way to her closet and hurriedly picked out a white blouse and red skirt. After a quick wash, she got dressed then went over to make her bed before heading downstairs. Victoria stopped in her tracks, however, as she noticed several bright red spots staining the white bed sheet. 

Blood? Why would there be blood? From what she had understood, women only bled the first time. Victoria could testify to that. She had for nearly a week after. . .after she had been . . She clamped her hand over her mouth in order to stave off a sudden rush of nausea that hit her. _Don't think, don't feel_. The words had been repeated so many times, over and over, helped to calm her mind and body.

She began to fret maybe something was wrong with her. Women could and did have various complaints and problems that were unique to their gender. One did not spend all their life in a tavern without hearing just about everything that went on in the world. Did she have some terrible disease that would cause her to bleed every time?

Then a familiar painful cramping in her lower abdomen dissipated all the worrisome thoughts from her head. _Santa Maria!_ Her courses! They had never been late at all. She had never been pregnant. There had never been a reason for her vile scheme to seduce Diego and try to pass off her attacker's child as his. There had never been a reason to spend the most glorious night of her life with him and realize she was in love with him.

Victoria gasped as the horror of the situation swept through her. _Oh dear Lord, what had she done?_

Z Z Z


	7. Chapter 7

Diego glanced around the bustling tavern. Mentally cursing his luck, he squeezed past a line of men bellied up to the bar and claimed the last empty table in the room. It was market day in the pueblo, a fact that had understandably slipped his mind and one that dashed his hopes of any kind of a private conversation with Victoria. 

"What can I get you, Don Diego?" The cheerful voice of Alicia cut through his frustration. The serving woman had come to a stop in front of him, carrying a tray holding a couple of dirty glasses. 

"A glass of lemonade," he said indifferently, "and whatever the special of the day is, _por favor_."

" _Arroz con pollo_ ," announced Alicia. "I'll bring your lunch out right away." 

She whisked off to the kitchen, where Diego heard her relaying his order to someone whose reply he could not comprehend. Victoria, he surmised, craning to catch a glimpse of her through the parted serape curtains. Failing to do so, he sat back as a yawn overtook him, reminding him of the hours he had spent tossing and turning, alternately fearing he had taken advantage of Victoria's desperate situation and being aroused by reliving the most magnificent experience of his life, before falling into an exhausted slumber just before dawn.

"Late night, Don Diego?" 

Diego turned to his right, noting for the first time the lancers sitting at the table next to him. The good sergeant was unusually absent, but five of his comrades were there, including Corporal Sepulveda, who had spoken.

"Um, not really, no," Diego lied distractedly before refocusing his attention toward the kitchen, not seeing the smirk on the corporal's face as he leaned forward and quietly said something to his companions that brought leering grins to their faces as well.

It was only a few moments later that Alicia returned the tray bearing Diego's meal and drink. " _Gracias_ ," he murmured politely as she placed it before him. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement behind the curtains and spied Victoria peeking out. She vanished as quickly as she had appeared, before he could get a good look at her and assess her well-being. 

There were so many questions he needed to ask her. Was she pregnant? Not pregnant? Was she suffering from pangs of remorse? Did she love him, or had she just used him like a stallion put out to stud? Did she really think him to be so gullible he would accept her attacker's child as his own? 

A bitter bile rose in his throat as he looked at his untouched plate, disgusted with himself. He wasn't the victim in all this. Victoria was. And if he truly loved her, he would do anything for her. Anything. 

Diego realized his coming to the pueblo had been a mistake. He couldn't talk with her, not rationally anyway, not today. Not until he could come to terms with his unresolved feelings of anger and guilt. Not until he was sure he could forgive her duplicity, if indeed it had been her intention to deceive him.

He was reaching into his vest pocket for coins to pay for his untouched meal when a shadow fell over his table. Looking up, he groaned inwardly when he saw his father and Felipe smiling down at him.

" _Buenos tardes_ , Diego," Don Alejandro greeted him, taking a seat opposite. He raised his hand to catch Alicia's attention. "Two more, please," he called out to her, pointing at Diego's plate. As she nodded, the old don narrowed his eyes at his son. "I didn't expect to see you here today."

"Why not?" asked Diego as Felipe moved around the table and sat down next to him. Like it or not, it seemed he was having company for lunch. He sighed resignedly.

The elder de la Vega shrugged. "Thought perhaps you were planning to sleep the day away. You did come in quite late last night."

Diego had just taken a bite of his cold food and choked inelegantly at his father's words. "How. . ." he began. Unable to continue, he grabbed his glass of lemonade and took a big swallow.

"I was getting a glass of milk," replied Don Alejandro. "Bit of insomnia now and again, you know," he added gruffly.

No, Diego hadn't known. Now, on top of all his other concerns, he had to worry about his father's health, not to mention the fact the old don might be wandering about the hacienda at night. Which would make his slipping in and out more difficult.

"Ah," said the elder de la Vega as Alicia placed plates in front of him and Felipe. " _Gracias_." 

Diego took advantage of the distraction to slide his gaze once more to the kitchen. It was just as well his conversation with Victoria would have to be postponed. Until he could get his emotions under control, being alone with her probably wasn't a good idea. 

Well, miraculously it seemed as if no one had noticed his sneaking out of the tavern earlier that morning. With a prayer of relief at least one thing had gone his way, Diego returned his interest to his meal.

Z Z Z

[part of the following scene taken from the episode "Like Father, Like Son" written by Tim Minear]

"Mendoza!" Victoria scolded as she walked up to his table. "How many times have I told you there is to be no gambling in this tavern?" At least a couple dozen times, she answered herself wearily, since she had banned games of chance after she had been shot by that gambler, Bishop. 

It had taken her the better part of an hour to work up the courage to confront the naive sergeant and two strangers who were shamelessly fleecing him. There was just something about Mendoza's cohorts that made her uneasy.

As soon as the chastised sergeant made his apologies and scurried out the front door, Victoria began to pick up the cards strewn about the table. "We were just having some harmless fun, my pretty señorita," said the older of the two men, with a smile he must have thought charming, but in reality only displayed his rotting teeth.

"In the first place, Señor, gambling is not harmless fun," she stated tightly. "And in the second place, Mendoza doesn't earn enough _and_ he has the card sense of a turnip." She paused before glaring at both men with all the disdain she could muster. "And in the third place," she said haughtily, "don't even think in your wildest dreams, that I could be _your_ señorita." 

Victoria snatched one last card off the table then marched over to the bar. After tossing the deck into a waste bin, she furtively glanced over at the pair of erstwhile card players. They were both openly ogling her, causing her stomach to churn nervously. 

She was safe, she told herself. She was in a room full of people. Except that when she looked around, Victoria noticed that apart from the two strangers, there was only one other person, an old man sleeping in the opposite corner. Panic began to fill her from head to toe.

Why had she been so stupid as to let both Pilar and Alicia have the afternoon off? Because business had been slow lately, and she knew the reason why. Someone had seen Diego leaving that night after she had lured him up to her room. Rumors of what he had been doing there so late - and unfortunately, most of them true - had spread like wildfire through the pueblo. 

Not that _he_ had been affected by them. Oh, no. She had seen other men clap Diego on the shoulder, winking knowingly. Not that the big oaf knew what they were about, though. He just sat there, clueless, calmly eating with his father and Felipe on the rare occasions he had been in Los Angeles in the past few weeks. 

On the other hand, she had been scorned, propositioned, and once, someone had spat at her. They had missed, _gracias de Dios_ , but still. . . Her usual customers were staying away in droves, which was just as well, she sighed, since hardly any of the farmers; or more accurately, the farmers' wives; would sell her the supplies she needed to run her tavern. It was all so unfair.

With trembling hands, she poured a healthy measure of wine into a glass. But just as she raised it to her lips, the two men sauntered up to the bar. 

"Uh, Señorita," the elder of them said, "my brother and I, we just had a little wager. . ."

Victoria slammed her cup onto the counter. "Didn't I just explain to you that gambling. . ." she said hysterically, unable to conceal her rising fear. 

" _Si, si_ , you told us," the man interrupted. "But you see, I have just bet him," he said as he indicated his sibling, "ten pesos that you would give me a kiss." Both men grinned lasciviously at her.

Shuddering with disgust at the thought of his lips on hers, Victoria said, "Then I think you should pay him his ten pesos." She then snatched up her glass, turning her back to the men before gulping down its contents in one swallow.

A shattering sound had her spinning back around to see one of the wine bottles from the bar had been tossed to the floor. Shards of glass and pools of red liquid were splattered all over the floor.

"Are you crazy?" she asked, not even trying to keep the terror from her tone. Evidently he was, grabbing another bottle and dropping it. Then with an evil chuckle, he swept his arm across the countertop, knocking off the remaining wine bottles, smashing them all to bits.

Victoria rushed out from behind the bar, appalled by the huge mess of glass and wine. "Get out of my tavern!" she shrieked, pointing toward the main door. "Get out!"

The older and bolder of the pair grabbed her wrist, squeezing it tightly. Victoria's legs felt like jelly as her insides roiled. _No, please not again_ , she pleaded silently as she struggled to free herself.

"Is all this worth one little kiss?" asked her captor, yanking her closer. 

"Filthy heathens!"

Victoria jerked her head upward. Zorro sat astride the balcony railing, his arms crossed angrily over his chest. She had not laid eyes on him since that fateful day when she had returned his ring then seduced another man, only to discover it had all been for naught. He looked. . .well. . .different somehow.

"Remove your hands from the lady!" the man in black demanded. "Or I'll remove them," he continued, in a louder tone, "from your wrists!" 

The stranger pulled Victoria toward the end of the bar. "I'll get my kiss from you yet," he promised, his face so close she could smell his fetid breath, "and more." Before she could react, he roughly shoved her away, drawing his sword as she crashed into the wall.

Where she must have hit her head, because what else could explain what she was seeing; Zorro hanging from the chandelier, kicking ineffectively at the men who were thrusting their weapons at his legs and feet. Closing her eyes, she gingerly shook her head before reopening them. Unfortunately nothing had changed. What on earth was wrong with him? she wondered, as the masked man cried out in dismay.

Victoria winced as Zorro clumsily fell atop the men, driving them to the floor. She could only stare incredulously as he picked himself up and limped over to her.

"Lady," he said gallantly, taking her hand, "are you injured?"

Dumbly she shook her head, too stunned to speak. This man was not Zorro. His face was too lined with age. His mustache was more gray than black. And he was much shorter than she knew him to be, with a much stockier build. He couldn't possibly be Zorro. And if he wasn't the true masked man, who in the world was he?

Z Z Z

[part of the following scene taken from the episode "Like Father, Like Son" written by Tim Minear]

Diego rode into Los Angeles in time to see de Soto and his lancers scurrying about the pueblo. He hadn't known where to begin the search for his father but thought the pueblo was as good as any place to start. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it, his instincts had been correct. This was just what he needed at the moment , he thought sarcastically; his father off doing who knew what, who knew where, dressed as Zorro, and riding the masked man's horse.

It was bad enough that for the past five weeks (actually five weeks, three days, and twelve hours, give or take a few minutes) he had been impatiently waiting for Victoria to announce she was going to have his child. 

Diego had tried to avoid going to the pueblo by himself, usually waiting until either his father or Felipe could come with him, just so he wouldn't have to face Victoria alone. His cowardice had been made easier by her tendency to hide in the tavern's kitchen. He mainly just caught glimpses of her peering through the curtains dividing the main room from her refuge from the rest of the world. 

But even in those fleeting glances, it was glaringly obvious she was putting on weight. Diego didn't know if that was a good or a bad sign. She had become nearly skeletal after her attack. But lately, that gauntness was gone and she was looking much healthier. And almost plump in some areas. Areas that Diego remember vividly, touching and caressing and. . .

As he shook his head to clear it, Diego brought his mare to a halt near the cuartel and quickly dismounted. He strode over to where his old schoolmate was issuing orders to his men. "Alcalde!" he shouted, drawing de Soto's attention, "What's going on here?"

The alcalde just sneered at him and waved his hand dismissively. "Not now, Diego."

Diego, fearing the worst, sidled up to Mendoza, who was standing a few feet away. The stout sergeant smiled broadly at him. "The brothers Esteban, they're inside," he said, answering Diego's earlier question. 

A bit weak with relief it was not his father causing all the commotion, Diego racked his brain, trying to recall what he knew about the Esteban brothers. If he was remembering right, they had left a nasty trail of chaos behind them; destruction of property, cheating, theft, assault, and on more than one occasion, murder and. . .rape. All the anxiety about his father's masquerade swiftly dissipated.

"Where's Victoria?" he demanded of the portly soldier. 

Mendoza shrugged nonchalantly. "Señorita Escalante's also inside."

"The brothers Esteban are ruthless cutthroats. . ." _Dios mio_ , if they threatened her, if they laid so much as a finger on her, he would forget the oath he had made and kill them himself. Diego started toward the tavern but didn't get far before the alcalde grabbed his arm.

"Diego, this isn't a surprise party," de Soto stated briskly, pushing him back, "it's an ambush." 

Less than a second later, a man rolled out of the tavern's front doors, landing face down in the dust. As Diego watched, the man struggled to his feet and turned toward the building. A large ‘Z' was slashed into the seat of the man's trousers. In an instant, all of Diego's worry about his father came roaring back.

"Zorro!" exclaimed de Soto excitedly. "He's inside!" His mouth grew into a gleeful smile. "And he's surrounded! Lancers!"

The alcalde rushed toward the tavern, waving the other soldiers forward. Most of the townspeople had gathered in the plaza and they followed as well, leaving Diego to fight his way to the front of the crowd.

Z Z Z

[part of the following scene taken from the episode "Like Father, Like Son" written by Tim Minear]

Victoria stared at the farce occurring right before her eyes. The more she saw, the more she was convinced it was not Zorro who had come to her rescue. Oh, he was winning the fight, but only by sheer luck and good timing. Although, she noted as she watched the masked man fence against the elder of the duo, then the other, that his skill with a sword was certainly a close match for the real Zorro's. 

Her confusion became secondary, however, when just as the man in black had defeated the younger man, the alcalde and several lancers burst through the tavern door. She stared in disbelief as Zorro was quickly surrounded without even trying to escape.

De Soto grinned smugly at his captive. "El Zorro," he declared, plucking the blade from the man in black's hand. "At last it ends. The moment I've been waiting for. . . The moment that I've dreamed of since I came to this pueblo." He removed the masked man's hat.

Her attention was diverted for a moment as Diego slipped through the soldiers to stand a few inches from her, causing a frisson of awareness to shoot through her. He was radiating a nervousness she swore she could have touched. Which told her something was very, very wrong.

The alcalde paused in his gloating for a moment, no doubt reveling in his triumph. "And now everyone shall see the face beneath the mask," he continued, nearly breathless in anticipation.

Dramatically, he pulled off Zorro's mask, revealing the face of Don Alejandro de la Vega. All around Victoria, people gasped. Everyone except Diego, who; although he had visibly paled; didn't look surprised at all.

Victoria would have staked her life on the fact the elder de la Vega was not Zorro. She had been right by his side too many times while the man in black had fenced, fought, and rode his way through the plaza. So how could Don Alejandro be standing in her tavern at that moment, dressed in Zorro's clothing, if he couldn't possibly be Zorro? 

She glanced again at Diego, and all of a sudden, everything fell into place. _Madre de Dios, Diego was Zorro!_

Then another thought hit her. Zorro was the only person who knew she had been raped. So if Diego was Zorro, then he knew as well. And he had to have known that night they had. . . 

Victoria inhaled sharply as the edges of her vision began to blur and darken. The last thing she heard before everything went black, was the elder de la Vega quoting a line from Don Quixote, "Do your worst. . . Oh ye of the woeful countenance."

Z Z Z


	8. Chapter 8

Diego watched helplessly as Don Alejandro was hauled away by a pair of lancers, followed by a dumbfounded Mendoza and a smirking de Soto. He wanted to chase after the alcalde, to explain this was all a huge misunderstanding, but was hindered by the unconscious woman he held in his arms. Praying fervently the commandante would not execute his father immediately, Diego turned his attention to Victoria.

A hand touched his shoulder, causing him to twist his head upward. Pilar, one of the serving girls, was gazing down at her employer with an expression of concern. "She's had a bad shock, I think."

"Yes," Diego agreed aloud. Silently, he was positive this was another sign she was with child. Healthy women did not just faint dead away. Although, seeing his father's face under the mask of the man she loved might cause any woman to swoon, pregnant or no. 

He slid his arms underneath Victoria's shoulders and knees, intending to carry her to her quarters, when Alicia, approaching with a small vial in her hand, shook her head. "No, we'll see to her, Don Diego," she said. "You should go help your father."

Diego could only stare, uncertain if he had actually heard the disapproval in her voice. What could have possibly caused the normally cheerful woman to glare at him with such hostility? He glanced over at Pilar, who was kneeling by her employer's side. She was also frowning severely at him as he relinquished Victoria over to their care. 

Rising to his feet, he watched as Alicia waved the tiny bottle under Victoria's nose. As soon as he saw her beginning to stir from the stringent potion's fumes, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the tavern.

Once outside, Diego came to a halt as he observed the Esteban brothers being dragged inside the alcalde's office by four soldiers. Almost immediately, a lot of yelling, banging, and scuffling began emitting from the building. With all the chaos going on inside, Diego highly doubted he would be allowed to plea for his father's release.

And just how was he going to explain why the old don was wearing Zorro's clothes, carrying Zorro's sword, and riding Zorro's horse, he had no clue. Diego scanned the pueblo, relaxing a little when he saw no sign of the big black stallion.

The sensible thing would be to go to the hacienda, make certain Toronado found his way back to the cave, and fill Felipe in on the afternoon's events. He would come back to town later, when things had settled down, and he had thought of a good excuse for the elder de la Vega's behavior before attempting to get the alcalde to free him from his jail. 

Then, if her employees-turned-dragons permitted it, he would see how Victoria was faring after her traumatic day. And if he determined she was feeling up to it, they would finally have the conversation between them that had been postponed far too long.

As he headed toward his horse, once again tied up in front of the tavern, he felt as though a thousand eyes were upon him. The townspeople had clustered in several groups, their discussions abruptly breaking off as he neared. Most of their faces were sympathetic, but there were also a few that looked at him with such contempt, he was left to puzzle why. 

It was hardly his fault the elder de la Vega thought he was a combination of their masked hero and some fictional madman who rode around tilting at windmills. He wondered what else his father had been up to while he had been out gallivanting around as Zorro. 

Which reminded him he needed to find out just what de Soto intended to do to the elder de la Vega. Diego scanned the plaza and cornered the first lancer he saw. "What does the alcalde plan to do with my father?" he asked brusquely. 

"I'm sorry, Don Diego," said the soldier, whose name was Private Cruz, if Diego remembered correctly. "The commandante said he is going to execute Don Alejandro first thing in the morning." The young lancer glanced nervously from side to side. "I really need to get back to work, Señor. We have a gallows to build."

Diego let the private go with a curt nod. Yes, the gallows where his father would hang in less than twenty-four hours if he could not come up with a way to stop it. Clenching his fists futilely as he stalked over to his mare, he freed her, swung up into the saddle, and took off at a gallop out of the pueblo.

Z Z Z

What was that awful smell? Victoria jerked her nose away but the pungent odor still lingered. Coughing, she opened her eyes and saw Pilar and Alicia staring down at her worriedly. Then she realized she was on the floor, her upper body being supported by the two women.

"What happened?" she asked faintly. With more than a little effort, she sat upright and struggled to recall the events evidently leading to her passing out onto the floor. Had she been drinking? 

No, no more than usual, she surmised. Then with a gasp, Victoria remembered being threatened by those two disgusting gamblers, remembered Don Alejandro had come to her rescue dressed as Zorro, and. . . She put a hand to her head as the room began to spin again. _Diego was Zorro_. And he knew. . . _everything_.

Victoria took the glass of water proffered by Pilar with a smile of thanks, although she wished it were something stronger. As she took a sip of the cool liquid, she wondered how she had been so stupid not to see through his masquerade years ago. Now that she knew, it was painfully obvious no one else but Diego could possibly be Zorro. 

Dios mio, how was she ever going to face him again? Inwardly she cringed at all the cutting remarks she had flung in his direction, flaunting her love for Zorro in his face every chance she could. But then he had lied to her, deceived her, let her think he was weak and indifferent, always with his nose in a book or his head buried in some scientific or artistic pursuit. 

They could have been together all these years if he had just told her the truth. They could have had the children she so desperately wanted. A rush of fury filled her. She could have been his wife, living at the de la Vega hacienda. She would have been in his bed, safe in his arms, instead of being at the tavern that night she had been. . .raped. Dios mio, if he had only told her. . .she never would have been. . . 

As her resentment threatened to boil out of control, she was vaguely aware of Pilar's and Alicia's voices buzzing in the background. With a wave of her hand, she brushed away the two women's concern. "I'm fine," she said, although her slightly slurred words proved she was fibbing. 

"Are you sure?" asked Alicia. "We can stay if you need us to." She glanced over at Pilar who nodded.

"No," stated Victoria emphatically. "I'll just close up for the day. It's been slow anyway." One more circumstance she could blame on Diego, she thought bitterly, trying to ignore the fact she had been the one to lure him to her room in the first place. She finished the water then gingerly got to her feet. A wave of lightheadedness swept through her and she wobbled for a second but remained upright.

"Um," began Pilar cautiously, "the stage from Monterey is due to arrive this evening."

Oh, no. In all the confusion, she had completely forgot about it. The tavern was required to be open in case the passengers needed to avail themselves of its services. With a groan of annoyance, Victoria took a deep breath. "I can deal with it myself. Honestly," she added as she noticed the uncertainty in both women's eyes. "It's not like there will be many other customers to deal with."

"But what about Z. . ." Pilar's question was interrupted by a sharp elbow to her ribs from Alicia. "I mean, all right." She and her coworker exchanged a glance. "But let us know if you need help."

" _Si_ , of course," Victoria replied. She placed her hands on her hips, a false smile on her lips as the pair left the building. As soon as the door closed, she walked unsteadily to the bar and grabbed a bottle of wine.

Z Z Z

[part of the following scene taken from the episode "Like Father, Like Son" written by Tim Minear]

It was nearly two hours later when Diego once again rode into the pueblo de Los Angeles, this time, however, accompanied by Felipe. Try as he might, he could not convince the lad to stay at the hacienda. Not that Diego could blame him. He was just as worried about the elder de la Vega as Felipe was.

The sounds of sawing and hammering coming from inside the cuartel were a grisly reminder of the scaffolding being built so they could hang his father. A shot of panic jolted through Diego. No, he told himself sternly, that was not going to happen. Not as long as he was alive to prevent it. 

They drew to a halt then dismounted in front of de Soto's office. He turned to Felipe, whose eyes had widened with the same fear that Diego felt. "Felipe," he said, placing a hand on the youth's shoulder. "See if they will let you visit Father." He nodded his head in the direction of the clamor. "I'll see if I can talk some sense into the alcalde."

Felipe nodded, and with a gesture, wished him luck. Diego smiled grimly as the lad loped off toward the jail. Then with a shake of his head, he pushed open the door leading into the cuartel. 

There he was met with a flurry of activity. Lancers were pounding nails into boards in various sections of the gallows. Two of them were hanging a rope from the overhanging beam. Pushing the sight of the noose to the back of his mind, Diego searched the courtyard, and quickly found de Soto, standing under the base of the wooden structure. The triumphant look on the man's face made Diego seethe. The fool actually thought he had captured Zorro. And Diego couldn't wait to wipe the smugness from the other man's countenance.

"Alcalde," he called out as he walked over to the commandante.

De Soto, who had been swinging the trap door, looked up. "Diego," he said irritatedly, "you're not permitted to be here."

"Alcalde," Diego repeated, "you cannot actually believe my father is Zorro." 

"I realize it's difficult to accept. . ." de Soto said condescendingly as he climbed out from under the scaffold.

"Be objective for a moment," Diego cut in. "Now, we've both seen Zorro. He's a much younger man. . . Agile. . . Powerful. . . Taller. . .

He faltered as he realized he was describing himself. The alcalde wasn't an unintelligent man, it was quite possible he could put the puzzle pieces together. . .if he were given enough of them. Which Diego had no intention of doing.

The commandante waved his hand dismissively. "An illusion," he stated. He then leaned in closer. "You see, Diego, you people have idolized Zorro to the point you assign him qualities he doesn't have. I see him for what he really is. . .a common criminal. I'm not blinded by romantic illusions."

"My father's life is not an illusion," Diego bit out angrily. "It has been an exemplary one dedicated to public service. To execute such a man would be a crime!"

"I agree," said de Soto, nodding. "I suggest you think of this as not his execution, but as Zorro's."

Diego had been about to retort that was cold comfort when the trap door opened with a loud thunk, startling him to silence. So much for the alcalde being reasonable. He was going to have to use a different tactic. .

"My father is a much loved and respected man in this community," he declared, trying mightily to tamp down his rage. "The people will not stand for this."

"Oh, please," the commandante said mockingly. "Diego, you realize that common rabble love to see nothing more than a man of wealth and property dangling from the end of a rope."

Diego saw through the contemptuous words to the fear in the other man's eyes. Like he had thought before, Ignacio wasn't dumb. He was frightened the so-called ‘rabble' wouldn't feel the usual enthusiasm of seeing a man hang and would turn on him and his lancers. "Then why is this to be a closed execution," he inquired, indicating the cuartel courtyard, "behind locked gates?"

He was pleased to watch de Soto swallowed nervously. "Well, you know," the alcalde replied weakly, "passions about Zorro run very high in this town. I cannot afford to have a riot on my hands."

A priest wearing a brown hooded robe came up behind the commandante then climbed up the gallows steps. The man was too tall and too thin to be Padre Benitez. Diego narrowed his eyes. So, de Soto was uneasy enough about executing his father he even had summoned a confessor from another pueblo. An idea sprang into Diego's head as he scrutinized the hooded priest. A secretive smile passed over his face before disappearing as if it had never been there.

"How was it?" His new plan was unceremoniously shoved aside at the alcalde's whispered question. He stared at the other man, the tenseness now gone from his face, replaced by a look of fraternity. 

Diego had no clue as to what de Soto was asking. "How was what?" 

The alcalde chuckled crudely. "She is quite the passionate little armful," he said. Then with a sigh, added, "I just wish I had had the chance to bed her before Zorro interfered." 

What on earth was he prattling on about now? Diego wondered. When had Zorro ever interfered with Ignacio's love life? He could only recall one woman the commandante had been interested in, Señora Sinestra, and yes, Zorro had also tangled himself up in the black widow's web of lust and lies, much to his chagrin. Since then, there had been no one. . . 

_Dios mio, Victoria_. The bastard was talking about Victoria. And those ridiculous potions of Doctor Wayne's that had the two of them convinced they were in love with each other. Diego remembered with gut-wrenching nausea the images of them billing and cooing, kissing and cuddling. He had been sure it had gone no farther than that. But evidently de Soto wished differently. And obviously he thought Diego had succeeded, which he had, but that was beside the point. His earlier fury returned with a vengeance.

"Come on, Diego," his old schoolmate chided, snickering lewdly. "You can tell me. Did she let out those little moans when you touched her breasts? Those nearly drove me insane. And. . ."

Diego had heard more than enough. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Alcalde," he lied through gritted teeth. His fists clenched, itching to give de Soto a beating the other man wouldn't soon forget.

"Diego, Diego," said the alcalde. "It's all over the pueblo. Everyone knows you spent the night with her." He paused and grinned lasciviously. "Tell me, was it only the one night? Or have you two been more discreet since then?" 

Spinning away, Diego stalked out of the cuartel. De Soto's jeering guffaws rang in his ears as he stepped out into the plaza. Glancing around, he spied Felipe lounging on the railing where they had hitched their horses.

"How is Father?" he asked as he strode up to the youth. Felipe signed that the old don was fine, singing and quoting Don Quixote and thinking Mendoza was Sancho Panza and driving the other two prisoners crazy. 

"Excellent," Diego murmured distractedly as he stared at the tavern. So Victoria's good name was being besmirched, had been for the last month or more, and he had known nothing about it. Suddenly all the confusing actions of his male acquaintances, the backslapping and the conspiratorial winks, made sense. What the alcalde said was true, everyone knew about that night up in her room where he had made love to her. The most beautiful experience of his life, and it had been turned into something tawdry. Something that had destroyed the reputation of the woman he loved.

He had been going to go see his father, to see for himself how the elder de la Vega was faring. But now. . . Now he needed to have a discussion with the one person he had been avoiding for much too long.

"Felipe," he ground out, his eyes never leaving the tavern, "go back to the hacienda. I'll be there shortly. I have a plan to free my father and I'll need your help."

When the lad didn't move, Diego turned to glare at him. "I said to go home!" he shouted, his frustration unfortunately getting the better of him. "Now!" 

He felt instantly contrite as he looked at the younger man's distressed face. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "Today has not been a good day. But I have no right to take it out on you. Go home, _por favor_." He put his hand on the youth's shoulder. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

With a wary nod, Felipe put his foot in his mount's stirrup and swung up into the saddle. Diego watched as he rode out of Los Angeles. Noting with a bit of rancor the plaza was nearly empty of gossipmongers, he stalked across the dusty ground to the tavern's front doors.

Z Z Z


	9. Chapter 9

Victoria took another sip of wine before setting down the glass on her worktable. With a heavy sigh, she began chopping up a rather pitiful tomato which represented the quality of produce she had been reduced to purchasing in recent weeks. 

Not that anyone cared, especially not Sergeant Mendoza who would never let a little detail like a woman's apparent immoral behavior stop him from eating at her establishment. She smiled wistfully, grateful the portly soldier had remained one of her few steadfast customers. In fact he would probably show up expecting his evening meal of tamales along with a tankard or two of ale about the same time as the Monterey coach was due to arrive.

So she was somewhat surprised when she heard the front door open, then footsteps march across the planked floor. A voice called out her name, startling her so much that she nearly sliced her finger.

What was _he_ doing here? Shouldn't he be keeping his father from ending up on the gallows? Victoria swiftly nabbed the wine bottle and glass, stashing them in their usual hiding place behind the large clay pot.

"Victoria." Whirling around as the kitchen curtains were shoved aside, she watched Diego stride into the room. He looked angry; very angry. Well, so was she. 

"Can I help you, Don Diego?" she asked, a tinge of sarcasm creeping into her tone. "I'm very busy at the moment." 

She suppressed a smirk as she saw her words had only infuriated him even more. "We both know that's not true, don't we?" he retorted. He threw a glance over his shoulder toward the deserted room on the other side of the partition. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" So the gossip had finally reached his big stupid ears. Good. 

"That I was seen leaving here that night. That your reputation has been maligned and your. . .."

"Oh, that." Victoria cut in, shrugging as carelessly as she could. 

"Yes, that." Diego took a step toward her and she saw his fury soften to pity. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

She didn't want his pity. She wanted an explanation why he had deceived her for so long. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" The look of confusion on Diego's face made her want to scream. This conversation was going around in circles and getting them nowhere. She decided to get straight to the point.

"Your little secret," she said contemptuously. "You know, the one where you wear a mask and a cape, and ride a big black horse named Toronado and. . ."

Diego's nervous laughter interrupted the rest of her description of Zorro's qualities. "I have no idea what you are talking about," he declared flatly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. His very muscular chest she remembered caressing and. . .

"Oh, please," she said, rolling her eyes as she pushed away the vivid thoughts of their night together. It was one of the reasons they were in this predicament in the first place.

"Don Alejandro rides into town, wearing Zorro's clothes, waving Zorro's sword, riding Zorro's horse, and you expect me to believe you have no idea where he got them? You weren't surprised at all when the alcalde unmasked your father earlier. I'm not an idiot, Diego. You. Are. Zorro." She punctuated her last three words by jabbing toward him with her knife.

_Ha, deny that_ , she challenged him silently as she resumed cutting up the tomato, a little more viciously than before.

"I am not Zorro." Diego stated the falsehood boldly before adding sardonically, "You've said so yourself on numerous occasions. Quite vehemently, I might add."

"That was before I knew the truth," she countered. She gestured at him with her hands. "Everything about you, your height, your mustache. . .your eyes. They are exactly the same as Zorro's. I cannot believe I never saw it before this. So you can just stop lying to me, Diego. Why won't you just admit it?"

He could see by the livid gleam in Victoria's eyes she was not going to be easily dissuaded. She knew and she wasn't go to be satisfied unless he revealed Zorro's true identity to her. _Tell her the truth_ , a little voice in his head whispered. She already knows. By not telling her, it argued, you are only making things worse. 

With a shake of his head, Diego silenced his conscience. It was for her own safety, her own protection, she never know he was the man under the mask. _Cobarde!_ his inner voice screamed at him. Diego sighed, knowing it was true. He _was_ being a coward by not confirming what she had already guessed. 

But first, he wanted her to answer a question, the one plaguing him for the past month. "All right," he bargained, "if you tell me why you lured me to your bed?"

He had the perverse pleasure of seeing her face turn beet red. "That is. . .that is none of your business!"

"I would say it was definitely my business," Diego declared wryly. "After all, I was the one you let. . ."

"It was a mistake, all right?" Victoria cut in heatedly. "The biggest mistake of my life." She whirled around, unable to face him, not willing to let him see she was the one who was lying now.

He took two paces toward her then halted abruptly. Then, oddly, he leaned in and inhaled deeply. "You've been drinking," Diego stated accusingly.

"Don't be silly," retorted Victoria defensively, spinning back around to face him. "I do not dri. . ."

Her denial trailed off as he moved past her and extracted the virtually empty bottle of wine and the half-filled glass she thought she had carefully concealed behind the clay pot. 

"Don't tell me these belong to Alicia or Pilar," he said as he taunted her with the betraying objects.

Victoria grew even more furious with him. How was it his business what she did to cope? She grabbed the glass from his hand, and drained its contents in one gulp. "So what if it is mine?" she asked defiantly, slamming the now empty cup down on the table. "Why do you care?"

" _Dios_ , Victoria." She flinched at the disappointment she heard in his voice as he set down the bottle. He looked askance at the knife in her hand. "You are lucky you haven't cut off one of your fingers. And it cannot be good for the baby."

"I haven't had that much. . ." she began to protest falsely. Then it dawned on her what he had said and she gasped. She carefully placed the knife down onto the tabletop. "You think. . . You think I'm going to. . . I'm pregnant?"

"You're not?" 

"No, of course not," Victoria replied tersely as she saw the mixture of doubt and relief on his face. She took a deep breath then glared at him. "Zorro is the only person alive who knows what happened that night," she said, trying to keep her emotions under control. "He would be the only one who would guess I might have fallen pregnant by the _cerdo_ who attacked me. And you expect me to believe your concern is just a coincidence?" 

She held up her hand as he started to open his mouth, presumably to bring up the night they had spent together. "You would not be so sure of a baby otherwise. Well, I'm not having anyone's child, not. . .not his. . .and certainly not yours."

Diego was stunned beyond words. Not only had she had uncovered his secret identity, she had also lifted off his shoulders the huge burden he had not wanted to admit he had been carrying, that he would have to pretend her rapist's child was his. And she had developed a drinking problem, no doubt to deal with everything that had happened to her in the past two months. 

"Then why?" he pleaded. "I have to know, Victoria. If it wasn't because you were with child, then why?" He stepped toward her, resting his hands lightly on her shoulders. "It was the most glorious night of my life," he declared sincerely. "I thought. . . Well, I hoped you felt the same way.

"I love you." He then raised her right hand to his mouth, leaving lingering kisses on each of her fingers. 

Each touch of his lips sent bolts of desire through her body where they swirled low in her belly. She closed her eyes, letting the sensations fill her. Sensations that before only Zorro had ever stirred in her. Zorro and Diego, who were one in the same. . .

She wrenched her hand away and slapped his face. "You cannot love me," she hissed bitterly. "I. . .I lured you to my room, because I _did_ think I was pregnant. I was going to trick you into marrying me, Diego. I was going to lie and tell you the baby was yours. I hoped you were naive enough to not figure out I was not a virgin and you would think you were my first lover and. . ."

Diego interrupted her venomous words by pulling her up against him then kissing her soundly. "I am your first lover," he protested fervently after releasing her. "I am the one who truly took your innocence. What Baquero did to you. . .it doesn't count."

With a cry, she spun away from him again, pressing her hands to her face. The anguish he had glimpsed in her eyes and the knowledge she was reliving her brutal nightmare, were like bullets to Diego's heart. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry." When she didn't reply, he placed his hands once again on her shoulders. Victoria flinched slightly but he kept his hold on her. "It has been eating me up inside, knowing that you were suffering alone, knowing I could have done more to prevent it."

He decided she need never learn of his bungled efforts that night. It would only add to her torment, making it a thousand times worse if she were aware the whole situation could have been avoided if he had not been bored enough to challenge the alcalde's lancers and so arrogant he thought he could easily elude them. 

"I should have done more to protect you. But don't you see?" he pleaded, hoping to make her understand why he had hid behind his mask for so long. "That is why I could never tell you the truth. Knowing would put you into even more danger."

Victoria glared at him angrily. "How dangerous could it be if we were married," she said resentfully. "I would have been much safer as your wife. I certainly would never have been. . ." 

Once again Diego cut off what she was saying by kissing her. This time he lingered a bit longer, running his tongue along the tight seam of her lips until they parted slightly. Then, and with much difficulty, he took a step back, letting her go from his embrace.

"I am an outlaw," he declared after regaining his composure, "with a price on my head. You would never be safe." Diego shook his head before going on. "Remember the day when those bandits tracked us to Zorro's cave?" Victoria nodded, a puzzled expression on her face. "The reason I changed my mind about revealing myself to you then was because they thought you already knew Zorro's identity. They were going to kidnap you and force you to tell them so they could collect the bounty on my head.

"Torture, Victoria," he stated bluntly. "They would have tortured you, doing God knows. . ."

Her mouth on his drove out any coherent thoughts he might have had. She wound her arms around his neck and pressed her soft body against his hardening one. With a groan, he slid his hands down her back, cupping her bottom and drawing her closer as their kiss deepened.

Victoria wriggled out from under Diego's grasp several minutes later, putting some much needed space between them. They were both panting heavily. She recovered first, putting her hands on her hips and gazing up at him, her chocolate eyes full of uncertainty.

"When does it end, Diego?" she asked plaintively. "How does it end? Can we ever be married? Have children?"

"I honestly don't know," he admitted before choosing his next words carefully. "Sometimes it feels as though I've trapped myself in a prison of my own making and the only way out is swinging on the alcalde's gallows. Or in front of his firing. . ."

Diego smiled as Victoria stopped his dire predictions by putting her lips on his. The kiss intensified as swiftly as a wild fire. Slowly, he glided his hands up her back, then cupped her breasts. Her moans of pleasure delighted him. . .until he recalled de Soto's vile comments and his desire was doused as if a bucket of icy water had been poured over his head. _Maldita sea!_

With a little more vigor than he intended, Diego pushed Victoria away. He winced at the mix of hurt and confusion on her lovely face. "I'm sorry," he murmured contritely. "I shouldn't. . . I mean we probably shou. . ."

Again his words were interrupted by her pulling him toward her then kissing him. He stumbled forward, encircling his arms around her when she bumped up against the worktable in the center of the room. Victoria entwined her arms around his neck, tugging him closer. The combination of his weight and forward momentum drove her downward, toward the table's cluttered surface. With a quick swipe of his hand, Diego swept away a bowl of tomatoes just seconds before Victoria's head would have landed in the middle of it. The bowl crashed to the floor, shattering to pieces and the overripe tomatoes splattering everywhere.

Gasping, they broke apart, gazing at each other in awe. Then their mouths met again. Victoria wrapped her legs around Diego's waist so that he could feel her moist heat against his groin. His lips left hers, trailing down her neck as he dragged her blouse down to expose one breast. Closing his hand over it, he gently squeezed as he rubbed his thumb over its pebbled nipple. _De Soto be damned_ , he thought as she made little contented whimpers in her throat. She was his. No other man would ever touch her again.

Diego felt her hands on his chest then was jolted with surprise as she yanked his shirt open, buttons flying off in every direction. Grinning, he pulled at her bodice, baring her to his gaze. His mouth moved to a rosy peak, flicking it with his tongue. Victoria arched upward, grinding herself against him. As one hand glided its way up her soft thigh, the other tore at the fastenings of his trousers, fumbling with them until he finally freed his swollen erection.

" _Hola?_ "

The sound of a man's voice froze Diego in his tracks. He looked down at Victoria, whose eyes were wide with panic.

" _Madre de Dios_ ," she whispered in horror. "The Monterey stage."

" Is anyone here?" the voice called out again. "Señorita Escalante?"

" _Si!_ " Victoria replied breathlessly as she struggled to sit up. " _Un momento, por favor_." She began readjusting her clothing to some semblance of modesty. "Diego," she hissed as he just stood there, with his shirt hanging open and holding his shaft in his hand. 

"Diego," she reiterated as she slid off the table, "do something." She waved her hand in his general direction, keeping her eyes averted upward. 

Diego shook himself out of his stupor and clumsily did up his trousers before tucking in his shirt, a task made more difficult due to the fact that half the buttons were missing. "This isn't over," he stated a bit testily. 

Victoria shot him an embarrassed glance. "What? Our discussion or. . .this." Her expression then sobered. "Don't you need to do something about your father?" she asked fretfully. 

"I have a plan," Diego said as he fussed with his shirt, attempting to decently cover his bare chest. When he was finally satisfied with the result, he announced, "And it's the discussion that is not quite finished. This. . . this was. . ." He gestured at the table, unable to explain what had nearly occurred there. He was still slightly befuddled their argument had rapidly escalated to the point he nearly ravished her in her own kitchen. 

"Does he know?" 

Diego hung his head. "No," he answered. "No, he doesn't." He lifted his gaze to her. "And I'd like to keep it that way for now." He was relieved she didn't argue the point and just nodded her head. 

They stared at each other for several awkward moments. "Well, I'd better be going," Diego said at last. 

Victoria nervously twitched her skirts into place. " _Adios_ , Diego."

" _Adios_ , Victoria." 

Knowing the front door was not an option, Diego headed for the kitchen's side door. As he was about to close it, he heard Victoria exclaim, "Oh, _Dios mio_ , what am I going to feed all these people?"

Z Z Z


	10. Chapter 10

Zorro shivered in the predawn light despite the coarse woolen robe he wore belted over his usual disguise. He wasn't sure if it was from the crispness of the morning air or the fact he was in his father's cell, listening to the old don's rambling confession. 

The padre whose place he had taken, Padre Santiago from the San Fernando Mission, had received an urgent message stating he was needed back at the mission immediately as it was being attacked by banditos. A falsehood, of course, to lure the priest away from Los Angeles so he could supplant him. And a sin for which he would hopefully be forgiven, due to the dire circumstances.

Turning his attention to Don Alejandro, Zorro noted the other man was not so much professing his sins as he was telling stories of his younger days in the army mixed with quotes from Don Quixote. Just how hard had the old don hit his head anyway? He tried to look at his father's eyes but was impeded by the hood he had pulled closely around his face. Surreptitiously he leaned forward.

A sudden burst of laughter from the elder de la Vega drove him back. ". . .six of us and only three of them. And then after we had finished trying to beat the shi. . .forgive me, Padre. . .I mean stuffing out of each other, Frontera came up with the idea of drawing straws for the ladies' favors. When I asked why he hadn't suggested that in the first place, he said he always liked a good fight before a good f. . ."

" _Perdone_ , Señor," Zorro cut in before the tale became even more graphic. "But it will be dawn soon and . . .and you need time to complete your penance." Which he would make only about half as burdensome as it should be. There were just some things a son did not need to know about his father and unfortunately he had learned much, much more than he had ever wanted to know.

"Oh, sorry, Padre," said Don Alejandro vaguely. "I, uh." He glanced around, taking in his surroundings. With a crooked finger, the old don beckoned him closer. "Padre, where exactly am I?"

"You are in the alcalde's jail, Señor," replied Zorro, "where you are awaiting your execution." His throat threatened to close with grief as he uttered those words. _No_ , he scolded himself. That was _not_ going to happen. His plan was a good one. It would work. It had to work.

"Why am I being executed?" The elder de la Vega's words interrupted his attempt to boost his morale.

"You are accused of being Zorro."

"What? Preposterous!" cried Don Alejandro. "How can I be this Zorro?" He abruptly got to his feet, puffed up his chest, then raised his fist. "I am Don Quixote! The Man from La Mancha!" Groans from the adjoining cell made Zorro peek over his shoulder. It seemed the brothers Esteban had been roused from their slumbers.

"Shut him up!" one of them shouted. The other one just rolled over in his cot and put his thin pillow over his head.

Zorro also stood, placing a hand on his father's shoulder, trying to focus the other man's attention on him. "I absolve you of your sins," he said quickly before gesturing with his free hand. "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. For your penance, say. . .let's say three _Padrenuestros_ and three _Ave Marias_."

" _Si, si_ , Padre, of course." The elder de la Vega sat back down again, then knelt on the floor, making the Sign of the Cross himself before starting to murmur the familiar words.

Just as Don Alejandro finished with his prayers and was rising from the floor, keys rattled in the main door of the jail and Mendoza stepped through it. 

"It's time," he announced solemnly. 

The sergeant walked over to the cell and unlocked the door. Then he signaled to the two lancers who had been standing guard. One came forward and roughly grabbed Don Alejandro's arm. 

"Private," Mendoza said with a shake of his head. The soldier immediately loosened his grip on the old don's arm. 

Zorro followed the others out the jail and into the courtyard, thankful he and Felipe had made the robe he wore extra-long to cover the fact he was wearing boots. Keeping his head down, he climbed the steps to the gallows platform where the Alcalde waited, the other man barely suppressing his glee over the thought he was ridding himself of both Zorro and a trouble-making caballero in one fell swoop.

[part of the following taken from "Like Father, Like Son" episode 4.7 written by Tim Minear]

At least the pueblo's citizens were not taking this outrage lying down. It sounded as if every man, woman, and child were at the cuartel gates, shouting and pounding on the thick wood. Cries of "Free Zorro!" and "Release Zorro!" filled the air.

Another involuntary shudder passed through him as he watched a lancer put the noose around the elder de la Vega's neck before tightening the knot. Then he realized de Soto was addressing his father. 

"By the way, your son sends his regrets," the alcalde said with a sneer. "He doesn't wish to see his father hang." The commandante shook his head. "A coward to the last."

Don Alejandro turned and glared at de Soto. "Diego de la Vega will avenge my death," he proclaimed proudly. "Son of Zorro, he can do no less."

The elder de la Vega's words filled Zorro with joy even as he winced as the old don claimed to be the masked man. And of course, the alcalde destroyed the moment with his usual derision.

"I'm sorry, Señor, but your son couldn't avenge a mild stomachache." De Soto then pulled a white handkerchief from his jacket and held it aloft.

All of a sudden, the cuartel gates gave way and people poured into the courtyard. Chaos reigned as the crowd rushed the soldiers, who then fired shots over their heads. A few turned tail and ran, but a large portion of the populace remained. Zorro saw with some trepidation Victoria had forced her way to the front and was gazing up at the scaffolding with anxious eyes. Eyes which were worriedly searching for someone.

Then it dawned on him she was looking for him. Well, for Zorro anyway. Whom she now knew to be Diego de la Vega. He just hoped she had the presence of mind not to call out the wrong name at the wrong time. That would definitely make this sticky situation even trickier.

The alcalde's mocking chuckle interrupted his tangled thoughts. "You know, it's at a time like this, I expect. . ." de Soto giggled again, "Zorro to ride in and save the day." The other man's amusement turned to a sneer. "Well, expectations are one thing and reality is quite another, hmm?" 

The commandante momentarily raised the handkerchief a few inches higher before letting it go from his grasp. As it fluttered downward, a lancer pulled on the lever which would release the trap door.

That was Zorro's cue. He slipped out his dagger he had hidden up the oversized sleeves of the priest's garment and lashed out, severing the hangman's rope right above the noose. His father fell through the opening in the platform, hitting the dusty ground with a cringe-worthy thug. Out of the corner of his eye, Zorro watched as Mendoza and another lancer tumbled off the gallows.

Then he felt a hand yanking him to his left. "Padre, what did you do?" de Soto asked incredulously.

With a twist of his lips, he flipped back the hood of the voluminous robe, revealing his masked face. "It's Zorro!" people cheered. "It's the real Zorro!" The man in black slid his gaze to Victoria, who remained still in the midst of the celebrations going on around her. Her concerned expression had not altered one whit.

Returning his attention to de Soto, Zorro stared calmly at the now not-so-smug commandante. "Alcalde, what crime is Don Alejandro guilty of?" he asked in a loud growl.

"What crime?" The alcalde was clearly flustered by this abrupt change of events. "Well, he's. . . He's Zorro."

Zorro held out his arms. "How can he be Zorro when Zorro stands before you?" he challenged.

If the consequences had not been so serious, it would have been quite amusing to watch as the commandante's mind processed what he was hearing and seeing. "It's a trick!" the other man declared at last.

"No, Alcalde," the masked man replied with a shake of his head. "No tricks. There's nothing up my sleeve." A truly wicked idea came to him then, a chance for a little retribution, one he found he could not resist. He brought up his right arm and quickly glanced down into the loose sleeve then did a double take.

"Well, look at that," he said innocently, "there is!" He moved his arm toward de Soto, who promptly took the bait, leaning forward to see for himself what devious trick his arch nemesis was hiding up inside the coarsely woven fabric.

There was something deeply satisfying about the way de Soto's left cheekbone crunched under the power of his right fist. His own knuckles were going to be sore and bruised for a while, but he truly doubted he would even notice the pain. Zorro watched dispassionately as the alcalde also crashed through the gallows' railing, unfortunately landing on the good sergeant and the lancer who were still lying on the ground.

He regretfully had no time to savor his vengeance of his old schoolmate's insulting comments about Victoria. Several of the soldiers were charging up the stairs toward him, their spent weapons useless except for the sharp bayonets affixed to each rifle. Zorro whipped off his brown robe and flung it at the approaching lancers. It landed on top of them, momentarily blinding them. 

A few kicks dispensed the bumbling soldiers, and he neatly swung down off the scaffolding to where his father was still lying motionless. Zorro's heart skipped a beat, as he feared the elder de la Vega was dead. But then he saw that the old don's chest was rising and falling, and without wasting any more time, scooped him up.

"Zorro." The quiet utterance of his name stopped him in his tracks as he carried Don Alejandro through the cuartel gates, where Toronado stood waiting nervously in the plaza. He turned to see Victoria staring up at him, her dark chocolate eyes filled with fear. Wondering who she was afraid for, Zorro or Diego, he also noted her eyes were abnormally bloodshot. From a lack of sleep or too much wine? Bitterly, he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answers to either of his questions.

With a shake of his head, he spun away from her, reaching his big black stallion in a few steps. In seconds, he was riding out of the pueblo with his father draped across the saddle in front of him as the people cheered his escape.

Z Z Z

Diego arrived at the tavern a little after noon, surprised to see that the place was so crowded. His eyes narrowed angrily. Evidently a near-hanging worked up people's appetites enough they forgot they were shunning the lovely innkeeper for her immoral behavior. Scanning the busy room, he spied the person he was looking for and made his way gracefully to his table.

" _Hola_ , Sergeant," he greeted the stout soldier who was digging into a large plate of tamales. Diego had to wait for a reply as the lancer had just shoved a spoonful of his meal into his mouth.

" _Hola_ , Don Diego," Mendoza finally said before waving his hand to an empty spot opposite him. "Have a seat."

" _Gracias_." Diego sat down across from the sergeant, wedging himself in between two of the other lancers. 

"I'm so happy that your father didn't hang," said Mendoza, leaning forward a little. "It must be quite a relief for you as well."

" _Si_ , Sergeant, quite a relief." 

"I kept telling the alcalde that Don Alejandro could not possibly be Zorro," the portly lancer announced. "How is he doing anyway?"

At first Diego thought Mendoza was talking about de Soto, whom he hoped was feeling the painful aftereffects of Zorro's wrath, but then realized the soldier was speaking of his father. Excellent, just the direction he wanted this conversation to take.

"He's doing fine, except for a small concussion," he replied casually. "We, Felipe and I that is, think he must have hit his head yesterday while reading Don Quixote and somehow confused the book's main character with Zorro." Diego paused, watching as his words slowly sunk into the sergeant's brain.

"Is that why he was calling me Sancho. . .Sancho something?"

"Sancho Panza, _si_. He is a character in the book, Don Quixote's squire."

"And is that why he thought Señorita Victoria was a horse?"

"He thought Victoria was a horse?" Diego wondered again just how hard the blow to the elder de la Vega's head had been if he had mistaken the most beautiful woman in the pueblo for a horse.

" _Si_ , Don Diego," replied Mendoza, his mouth still chewing his last bite of tamales. "He called her Dulcinea."

Diego chuckled. "Dulcinea is also a character in the book, Sergeant," he stated. "She was a peasant woman Don Quixote thought he was in love with. My father named his horse after her."

"Oh." Mendoza thought about that for a moment. "This book sounds pretty interesting. Maybe I should read it someday."

"I'm sure my father will lend you his copy," Diego said politely. He glanced at the other three lancers at the table and noticed the smirks on their faces. What, they didn't think their sergeant was capable of reading a book? Then it suddenly occurred to him they often had that same slightly leering expression on their faces whenever he saw them lately. 

_Dios_ , had it been one of the lancers who had spotted him that night? And he had been so sure no one had seen him. Diego groaned inwardly. Not only were the garrison's lancers inept and lazy, they were some of the worst gossips in the pueblo. Well, he would certainly use their proclivity of spreading tales to his advantage.

"Of course, my father is a bit embarrassed by all this," he declared as Pilar set a glass of lemonade in front of him and he nodded his thanks. "Although he was quite proud of himself for still being able to wear an old scouting uniform he kept from his army days."

"An old uniform?" the sergeant asked, somewhat incredulously.

" _Si_ , worn for a secret mission he still won't tell me about," Diego said with a laugh. "I think it must have been some sort of a midnight raid or. . ."

He was saved from any further explanation by a loud crash then a shout from the kitchen. "Give that back!" yelled a slightly slurred voice that sounded a lot like Victoria's.

"No! You've had too much already!" Diego recognized the worried admonishment as coming from Alicia.

He immediately sprang to his feet, throwing aside the curtains as he rushed into the kitchen. His entrance must have startled the serving woman for Victoria took the opportunity to snatch a bottle of wine from her. Defiantly she took a hearty swig from it, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. 

It was then that she noticed Diego. "What do you want?" she asked heatedly. "What. . .What do you think. . .that I'll lift my skirts for you whenever you want?" She gulped down more of the wine before swaying tipsily.

"Victoria. . ." Diego reached toward her but she recoiled away from him. He then turned to Alicia. "What happened?"

The other woman waved her hand at the obviously inebriated innkeeper. "I don't know. I came in to pick up an order and she was drinking. . . I tried to take it away but. . ." She shrugged helplessly.

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here," Victoria demanded. She pointed a shaky finger at Alicia. "Go back to work.

"And you, Don Diego de la Vega. . ." She raised the bottle to her lips and drained it before aiming her finger in Diego's direction. "You can go to hell." Then she threw the empty container at his head.

Z Z Z


	11. Chapter 11

Diego ducked out of the way as the bottle flew past his head before smashing against the wall behind him. Victoria glared at him reproachfully as Alicia looked on in horror.

"Dirty filthy stinking _cerdo_. . ." Victoria declared in a loud voice. She glanced surreptitiously at the table.

He instantly spotted the long sharp knife that had caught her eye. They stared challengingly at each other for a moment, during which Diego prayed she would not actually use it on him, then they both lunged for it at the same time. Victoria was quicker, grabbing the handle a split second before Diego. His hand covered hers and he used his superior strength to keep her from lifting the knife off the table.

"Let go," Victoria hissed angrily, trying to pull away from him and knocking a plate piled with tamales to the ground. It shattered as it hit the tiles, splattering food and broken crockery all over their feet.

"I don't think so." The fumes from her breath were so strong, they made his eyes sting. Enough so he was considering her ridiculous demand. She must have started drinking as soon as he had left the pueblo that morning to be so intoxicated. 

Victoria squirmed in frustration. "You're nothing but a lying, sneaky. . .two-faced . . .pig who thinks he can just ride in on his bla. . ."

"Victoria," Diego interrupted her tirade before she revealed his secret to everyone in the tavern. "That's enough."

"What's going on in here?" Mendoza asked as he poked his head through the curtains. "Where are my tamal . . ." His mouth fell open as he gaped at the tableau before him. Diego wasn't sure if the sergeant was more distressed by the sight of him and Victoria struggling over a knife or the sight of his ruined meal.

"Get out!" Diego, Victoria, and Alicia all shouted in unison at the poor soldier, who immediately complied, backing out of the room with alacrity.

Victoria used the distraction to kick Diego in the shin. Pain blossomed in his leg but he held fast. She then put her free hand on his chest and tried to push him while at the same time kicking at him again. He moved out of the way of her foot and she slipped in the sauce on the floor, relinquishing her hold on the knife and landing on her bottom.

" _Maldita sea_ ," she muttered, placing her hands on the sides of her face. Diego, now sole possessor of the knife, flung it behind him and upward, where it stuck high into the wall, out of everyone's reach.

Then intending to help Victoria to her feet, Diego moved toward her. A hand touching his arm brought him to a halt. "Don Diego, perhaps it would be best if you left," Alicia said impatiently. "Pilar and I can. . ."

"I'll deal with her," he announced authoritatively. He did not trust her to be alone in her inebriated state with anyone other than himself. She was belligerent and all too willing to divulge his secrets.

"And why should I let you?" asked the serving woman testily. "She wouldn't be in this condition in the first place if it wasn't for you."

The accusation stunned him as he realized what it meant. Victoria's employees thought he had seduced then abandoned her, allowing her to become fodder for the pueblo's sanctimonious rumormongers. They thought that was the reason for her drinking and were placing the blame squarely on his shoulders. 

They had no inkling of the nightmare she had been living for the past few months. Of course, he hadn't known about the drinking problem until yesterday, though he now recalled smelling wine on her breath that night they had spent together. He had thought nothing of it at the time, figuring she must have taken a sip or two to boost her courage in order to lure him into her bed.

He faced Alicia who was once again staring hostilely at him. "She is my responsibility then, isn't she?" he stated bluntly. Sensing the other woman was still unwilling to let him near her employer, he vowed, "I swear that nothing untoward will happen while she's in my care." Diego felt her skepticism lessen as she seemed to accept the sincerity of his words.

"All right," the serving woman reluctantly agreed as Victoria struggled to get up off the floor. Both Diego and Alicia hurried over, each grabbing an arm before hoisting her upward. Victoria wobbled but remained upright as they released her. 

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here," Victoria cried out angrily. She swung her right hand at Diego, who nimbly dodged out of its way before wrapping his arms around her, trapping hers against her body. He then lifted her up and onto his left shoulder.

"Put me down, you big oaf!" she shouted. "Don't touch me!" Diego ignored her pleas, and carried her toward the back door. She lunged wildly at the table as they passed, knocking off more plates. The sounds of shattering dishes followed in their wake. 

She then began to pummel his back with her fists. "I'll scream!" she threatened, unaware that she was not exactly being quiet about her circumstances. "I'll tell everyone you are. . .Zorro."

Fortunately, Diego had transported her through the door, kicking it closed with his foot before she finished her sentence. He set her down on her feet then backed her up against the outside wall of the tavern, using his hands to pin her in place.

"I'm taking you some place where you can sober up," he said. He used a finger to raise her chin so that their eyes met. "And then we are going to finish our discussion from yesterday."

"I am not drunk," Victoria's slurred words belied her statement. "And I'm not going anywhere with you. . .you _perro_ ," She shook her head. "I have nothing more to say to you, you pig. You _bastardo_."

Diego gazed at the stubborn expression on her lovely face and sighed. Then he turned his head slightly and let out a loud whistle. Within seconds, Esperanza came trotting up to them. Diego hoisted Victoria up onto the mare's back. She immediately tried to slide back off, but before she got too far, Diego swung up into the saddle and scooped her up, placing her across his lap. 

"Let me go!" she yelled. "Help! I'm being kidnapped! Help!" Diego urged his horse forward and away from the pueblo, hoping no one had heard her pleas. But, he thought, the way his luck was running, someone had and would report them to the alcalde.

Victoria quieted down as they rode across the countryside. She was beginning to feel sleepy and the rocking motion of the horse was lulling her even further into drowsiness. And though she was very, very, very mad at Diego, it felt good to be held in his arms. He was so warm and strong and. . . She sighed and closed her eyes. 

Z Z Z

Victoria slowly became aware she was no longer on horseback and no longer in Diego's arms. Little hammers were pounding inside her skull and her mouth felt as dry as a desert as a wave of nausea swept over her. Warily opening one eye, she noted wherever she was - and where exactly that was, she had not a clue - it was dimly lit and quiet. Her head rested on a feathery soft pillow and she seemed to be lying on some kind of a cot, covered with a warm wool blanket. 

She stared upward for several minutes before she finally determined the ceiling above was rough hewn stone. And there were bubbling noises coming from somewhere near her feet. Inhaling, she got a whiff of a strange acrid odor she could not identify and another more earthy scent, one that she recognized instantly as a mixture of horse, straw, and manure.

She had the vague sense she had been here before, not so long ago. Victoria placed a hand over her eyes as she tried to concentrate. The sound of footsteps shuffling in her direction disturbed her thoughts before they had a chance to even begin. She uncovered her face and saw a panicked looking Felipe standing over her. Felipe? Why would he be here? Unless. . .

_Madre de Dios_ , Diego had taken her to the cave. Zorro's cave. The very place, not so many months ago, the masked man had proposed to her and she had been so happy to say yes. 

Tears welled up in her eyes and she futilely dashed them away. Felipe's expression grew even more alarmed at the sight of her weeping. No doubt he was like the rest of his gender, she thought wryly, unable to cope with a woman crying.

He held out his hands palms down, and made a pressing motion. Then he dashed out of the cave. Victoria interpreted his gesture to mean she was to stay put. And as much as she would have liked to disobey that order, her body was content to stay right where it was.

She must have drifted off again because it seemed like a long time before she heard the footfalls of someone entering the cave. Her instincts told her it was Diego even before he came to a halt beside her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked solicitously as he knelt down next to the cot.

"Why did you bring me _here_?" she asked, irritated by his considerate manner. All her feelings of anger, guilt, and shame churned sickeningly within her at the sight of him. She attempted to sit up, but the room began to spin and she had to lie back down again, placing her hands on her temples in a vain attempt to end her dizziness. 

"Because this is the only place I could think of where we won't be disturbed," Diego replied. "You cannot go on like this, Victoria. You need help."

"I am fine," she lied through gritted teeth. 

"You cannot honestly believe that," stated Diego. He ran an agitated hand through his hair. "The drinking, it has to stop."

"I can quit whenever I want," she declared boldly even though she knew that was untrue. Her dependence on alcohol was getting out of control. But. . .it helped her to cope, to forget, to. . . 

"Victoria," he began gently, interrupting her thoughts, "I'm afraid for you." She frowned at that. "I know everything that has happened in the last few months has been terrifying and overwhelming. But you cannot go on like this."

"And why do you think you can help me?" she asked sullenly. Summoning all her will, she sat up, swinging her legs until her feet touched the ground. Instant regret flooded through her as pain filled her head and her stomach roiled violently. 

"Victoria, you shouldn't. . ." Diego never had the chance to complete his admonishment as he watched her face turn a pale shade of green. As she leaned forward, Diego jumped backward, but sadly, not in time to save his boots.

" _Oh, Dios_ , I'm so sorry." Victoria, her complexion still an unhealthy pasty color, clamped her hand over her mouth in mortification. Diego was at a loss as to what to say, because really, what did you say to the woman you loved who had just cast up her accounts all over your feet? He walked over to the nearest laboratory table and picked up a pitcher sitting upon it.

He poured some of its contents into a cup, then thrust it at her. "Here," he said gruffly. Cautiously she took the proffered glass and sniffed it, probably to make sure it wasn't the cactus tea he had made her drink the only other time she had visited Zorro's lair. Diego reached into a box under the table and pulled out several rags and began cleaning up the mess. Surreptitiously he watched as she listlessly sipped the water from her cup.

"This is crazy," Victoria said suddenly.

Rising up to his full height once again, Diego stared down at her. "For heaven's sake, I'm perfectly capable of wiping up your. . ."

"That's not what I mean," she broke in impatiently. "Although you really should let me do that." She started to stand again but he glared menacingly at her and she promptly sat back down. 

"I cannot stay here with you," she stated hotly. " It won't be long before the whole pueblo learns that you carried me off somewhere." With a sad sigh, she continued, "My reputation is already in tatters. My business is suffering. This," she indicated the cave with a flourish, "this madness is going to destroy everything I've worked so hard for all these years. I cannot let that happen. I need to leave. Now."

"No," Diego said firmly. "You are going to rest here until you feel better."

"Then what?"

"Then we are going to talk."

"I do feel better," Victoria muttered unconvincingly. "And I'm tired of talking." Diego arched an eyebrow as he looked pointedly at the floor. "Oh, all right, I don't feel better. But I am tired of talking."

"Then you won't mind taking a nap," Diego suggested, knowing that in a few moments she would be doing just that. 

Victoria glanced sharply at him then into her empty glass. "What did you. . . What was in. . . It tasted like regular water." As she spoke, her eyelids began to droop heavily.

Diego smiled wryly as he helped her to recline once again on the cot. "I distilled the bitterness out of the cactus juice," he explained as he pulled the blanket up to cover her. "It does taste exactly like water now but with all the same sleep-inducing properties as before."

"You _cerdo_." Victoria's oath lacked its usual acrimony as she slipped deeper into unconsciousness. Diego gazed down at her, the worry returning to his expression. How was he supposed to help her fight her demons if she and those demons were seemingly on the same side?

Z Z Z

A repetitive drumbeat kept sounding in her head. _Dios mio, I must be hung over again_ , Victoria thought. She didn't want to open her eyes because she was all too well aware how painful the simple movement would be. But then suddenly she could see and she gasped in horror at what she took in her surroundings.

The gallows had been erected in the middle of the plaza, surrounded by the pueblo's citizens. They were pushing and shoving toward the scaffolding, shouting something she couldn't catch. Victoria turned her head to see a lancer beating a drum as he led a procession of other soldiers to the gallows. 

Standing on tiptoe, she tried in vain to see who was walking next to de Soto, who was wearing a grotesquely evil grin on his face. Finally she caught a glimpse of someone in a brown robe, hanging his head as if in shame. Who was it? she wondered. She looked to her left as she was jostled by a large man she vaguely recognized as the general storekeeper. 

"Who is it?" she asked him. "Who is the alcalde hanging now?" 

The man ignored her, thrusting his way past her before being swallowed up by the crowd. She was propelled forward by those behind her and she began to fear being trampled by the frenzied mob. 

Then their muted shouts became clearer, making her wish they had remained muffled. "Kill him!" "Hang him!" "Death to the impostor!"

_The impostor?_ Surely they didn't mean Don Alejandro? Zorro had saved him that very morning. And if it wasn't the elder de la Vega, who were they denouncing so angrily?

The parade of lancers had reached the platform, encircling it as de Soto and the condemned man climbed the stairs. The prisoner tripped on a stair and was promptly lashed with a riding crop the alcalde held in his right hand. The man cried out in pain and stumbled again. The commandante yanked him up the rest of the steps and flung him underneath the waiting noose.

With his hideous smile still in place, de Soto turned to face the swarm of townspeople at the base of the scaffolding. There was an instantaneous hush over those gathered.

"Citizens of the pueblo de Los Angeles, " the Alcalde announced loudly. "Today we rid ourselves of the scourge who has lied and deceived you, who has stolen from not only me, but from all of us. Who kills unarmed men, beats and starves defenseless children, and defiles our most beautiful women."

The shouts of "Kill him!" and "Hang him!" once again rang throughout the plaza. De Soto gazed out at the crowd with a sickeningly pleased expression. After a few moments, he raised his hands and the people quieted at once. The alcalde then stood next to the hooded man.

"I give you Zorro!" he declared as he tore the robe from the man beside him. The man in black continued to stare down at his boots. A lancer placed the rope around the masked man's neck and cinched it tightly.  
"And now, we will all see who this villainous scum hiding behind his mask of shame truly is." With that, de Soto ripped the black silk from Zorro's face.

Victoria screamed in terror. 

For it was not the face of Diego de la Vega that was revealed. But the man who had raped her, Jose Baquero.

Z Z Z


	12. Chapter 12

_No, that was impossible. Baquero was dead._ She had seen his body with her own eyes. Why was he dressed as Zorro? Where was Diego? She wildly searched the crowd but could not see the tall caballero. 

Strong hands seized her from behind and began pulling her backward. "No!" she shouted as she struggled to free herself. "Let me go!"

Victoria craned her head this way and that, trying to see who was dragging her away from the middle of the plaza. People stared at her as she passed them by. "Please help!" she pleaded. But they just averted their eyes, ignoring her plight.

Suddenly she was tossed to the ground, the breath knocked from her body. Her captor fell atop her, pinning her down. "Victoria, stop," said a voice that sounded as though it came from far away. 

"No!" She flailed her hands, one of her fists striking something solid. Whoever was holding her released his grip on her and his weight was lifted off her. Warily, Victoria opened her eyes and saw Diego kneeling on the floor next to her, blood dripping from his nose.

"You pack quite a punch," he stated dryly before pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Where am. . ." She broke off the question as she noticed she was still in Zorro's cave. "What happened?" 

"You were having a nightmare, I believe," replied Diego somewhat nasally. 

_Madre de Dios, a nightmare_. It all had been just a nightmare. She sighed with relief. Then she realized she was on the cold stone floor. "How. . .?"

"You were thrashing about and fell off the cot," Diego interrupted, answering her unfinished question. "I was afraid you were going to hurt yourself, so I. . .um. . ." His face turned a bright shade of red.

"Jumped on top of me?" she asked suspiciously. "I thought you told Alicia that you wouldn't touch me?" She eyed his still bleeding nose. Served him right, she thought smugly.

"I said nothing of the sort," denied Diego. "I told her nothing untoward would happen. Keeping you from harming yourself is an entirely different matter. If you had rolled just a few more feet, you would have tipped over that table." He pointed toward the one closest to her. "If those chemicals had spilled and then mixed, it would have resulted in dire consequences for us both."

Victoria sat up, surprised she did not feel dizzy. But then it had been quite awhile since she had any wine. 

"So, what was it about?" asked Diego, startling her from her thoughts.

"What was what about?" _Dios_ , she was really going to need something to drink if he kept talking in riddles.

"The nightmare," he replied. 

"Oh, nothing," she lied with a shrug.

"You were screaming, Victoria," stated Diego. "And crying and thrashing about. It was not ‘nothing'."

"I want to go back to the tavern now, " she demanded. Yes, she wanted to go back to the tavern. She had wine there. Lots of it.

Diego shook his head then winced at the pain the slight movement caused. "I don't think that is a good idea." He pressed a handkerchief to his still bleeding nose. "The nightmare," he asked again. "What was it about?"

She glanced up at him, the words telling him to go to hell poised on her lips, until she saw he wasn't going to drop the subject until he was satisfied with her answer.

Once again, the image of her attacker shimmered in her mind. Victoria shut her eyes, trying to block out the horrifying picture. Then with a deep breath, she raised her chin. "I was dreaming that Zorro was going to hang, only it turned out not to be your father or you, but. . . Baquero," she whispered his name, an irrational fear gripping her that if she said his name aloud, he would reappear, just like in her dream.

"I'm sorry, Victoria, I didn't kn. . ." Diego began.

"You weren't supposed to know," Victoria retorted. "No one was ever supposed to know."

"But I do." Diego crouched down on the floor beside her. "Please, Victoria, I want to help you. But I need you to want to help yourself first."

Victoria turned away from his tender gaze. "I don't know if I can," she said, trying to keep her tears from flowing. She dropped her face into her hands. "It was all my fault," she declared, her words muffled. 

"Of course it wasn't," Diego countered. "Why would you even think. . ."

"It _was_ my fault," she cut in. Victoria raised her head, wiping at her eyes. "I knew his request for an extra blanket was just an excuse to lure me up to his room. But I went anyway. Because I wanted to show him he couldn't intimidate me. But he could and he did. . .and he. . .and he. . ." 

Strong arms encircled her and she relaxed into Diego's embrace. "It was _not_ your fault," he reiterated, stroking her hair with one hand. Diego sighed. "If anyone is to blame, it would be me."

Pulling away, Victoria stared at him in disbelief. "How was it your fault?" she asked.

Diego exhaled heavily, knowing he was about to break the vow to himself and possibly add to his beloved's misery. "I was coming to the pueblo to protect you. I had seen the way Ba. . .he was leering at you." He refrained from saying her attacker's name when he felt her stiffen in his arms. 

"But I failed you. I thought I could deal easily with the lancers. But I was wrong. And you paid a terrible price for my arrogance."

"How could you have possibly known when or even if anything would have happened?" she asked. "I might have trusted my instincts and locked myself in my room instead of getting that stupid blanket."

Her words took Diego by surprise. Other than the gut feeling Baquero was not to be trusted, he had no reason to believe anything untoward would have occurred. Despite that logic, the burden of guilt he felt weighed heavily on his shoulders. He should have been there to protect her, not playing hide and seek with the garrison soldiers.

" _Si_ , you might have," he conceded, "but he was an evil man with evil intentions. He would have just found another way."

Victoria frowned contemplatively. Diego gazed into her eyes and saw her demons still lurking in their dark depths. He wanted, no, he _needed_ to dispel them. He just didn't know how. 

"Victoria, I know what happened to you was. . .violent and ugly," he acknowledged softly. "I can only imagine how terrifying it must have been. But you cannot let it control how you live your life. You are never going to find solace in the bottom of a wine bottle, no matter how many you empty."

Her expression changed from confusion to anger in an instant. "That's not. . .that's not why. . ." she sputtered crossly. She took a deep breath, obviously trying to compose herself. "Just because you are such a stick in the mud and never touch alcohol," she sneered, "that doesn't mean the rest of us cannot have a drink now and then."

"It's a lot more than ‘a drink now and then'," Diego snapped, a trifle offended by her remark. He didn't abstain because he was a prude, but because he needed to keep a clear head in order to successfully maintain his masquerade.. 

But that was all beside the point. "You are well on your way to becoming the town drunk," he stated harshly. "What happens if the tavern fails? What are you going to do then? Have you even given that any thought? Or are you too busy drowning yourself in alco. . ."

" _Callarse_!" Victoria put her hands over her ears. 

"No, I will not be quiet." Diego moved closer and gently lifted her fingers away from her head. "I cannot let you do this to yourself. I love you, Victoria. And you need to know I would do anything to help you."

"Well. . .you can't," declared Victoria bitterly. "I don't want nor need your help." She raised her chin to scowl at him. "I will. . .I'll just cut back. One glass of wine with my supper, like I used to do. Then you can stop your preaching at me."

"You know that's not going to happen," Diego said wearily. "That one drink will turn into two then three, then more, then before you know it, the bottle is empty and you have no notion how it happened."

Victoria gasped indignantly, but underneath her outrage, Diego detected shame in her eyes and realized that was exactly how she had begun her dependence on alcohol to cope with being raped.

"So what happens now?" she asked, glaring at him angrily. "Are you going to drug me again?"

"No," he replied. "You needed to rest. And you were too stubborn to admit it. Just like my father."

Victoria felt all the defiance leave her body in an instant. She had been so wrapped up in her own problems, she had forgotten the elder de la Vega had almost been hanged. "How is Don Alejandro?" she queried. 

"Oh, he is just fine," Diego said airily as he set his bloody handkerchief on his desk. "All he can remember is sitting in the library two days ago reading Don Quixote and bumping his head. He has no idea he was almost hanged."

She picked up on the sarcastic edge to his words. And the dark shadows under his eyes, the rumpled clothing he was wearing, and his unusually mussed hair. Diego looked like he hadn't been to bed in days.

"What time is it?" she asked, realizing she had no idea if it were day or night .

Diego pulled out his pocketwatch and consulted it. "A little after two in the morning."

"When was the last time you slept?"

He shrugged in reply, "That's not important." Moving out from behind his desk, he came forward. "What about you? Do you need anything? Food. . ."

"I am a little hungry," Victoria admitted as she nervously brushed off her skirts. She must look a fright, she mused, feeling as rumpled and mussed as Diego looked. Plus she felt a sudden urge to be clean. "And would it be possible to have a bath?"

" _Si, señorita_ ," Diego said with a little bow. He immediately set to work. Victoria watched as he dashed across the cave and pulled a tin washtub from out of the shadows. He then disappeared again and she heard clanging and splashing.

Soon, he had several buckets of water hanging from a pole that was bracketed across the cave's fireplace. "This is how we heat water to do the laundry," Diego explained. "Much more efficient than heating only one bucket at a time."

"Laundry?" Victoria was puzzled. Then it dawned on her what he meant. Zorro's laundry. He could hardly hand it over for Maria, the de la Vega's housekeeper, to wash, she thought with a giggle.

When he had poured the last bucket in the tub, Diego set it aside, then handed her some towels and a bar of soap. She sniffed it when he turned his back and instantly recognized its simple scent. It smelled like Diego. And Zorro. Why hadn't she ever noticed that before? Perhaps because it was a plain and commonplace soap, used by hundreds of people? She stared at him as he fussed with the bath water, realizing again how clever he truly was.

"I'm going get us something to eat now," he announced, breaking into her thoughts. "Do you have everything you need?"

"Yes, Diego," she said, blushing a little he was leaving the cave so she could undress. It wasn't like he hadn't seen her naked before, but it was still very chivalrous of him. " _Gracias_."

"Yes, well, take your time," he replied, and she noticed his cheeks were a little pink as well. It was a rather awkward situation to be sure. "I'll go now." He indicated the archway to his left.

" _Gracias_ ," she repeated. He nodded, then took the small set of stairs in one bound and disappeared down a small hallway. Victoria wondered where the passage ended. She'd have to ask Diego when he came back.

She set about the business of removing her clothing, shaking her skirt and blouse out as best she could. Dipping a toe into the tub, she smiled as the water was at the perfect temperature. Soon she was submerged up to her neck and finally began to relax.

Z Z Z

Half an hour later, Victoria was rinsing the soap from her hair. The water was growing tepid and she worried Diego might reappear at any moment with the promised food. Giving her hair a final squeeze, she placed her hands on the side of the tub and pushed herself upward. Victoria reached for one of the towels, placing it on the stone ground before stepping out onto it.

Just as she was grasping for another of the cloths, something clattered to the floor a few feet away. Glancing that direction, she saw Diego standing there, clutching a full tray with both hands. A fork rested an inch or two from his foot.

"Oh," she squeaked.

Diego was afraid that the platter he was holding was going to break in half. Dios mio, he had dawdled as long as he could, hoping she would be done with her bathing and fully dressed by the time he reentered the cave. Not standing there like a statute of a Roman goddess, beautiful and glorious and oh so very, very tempting.

Her hand, arrested in its quest for a towel, fell to her side. Her expression was unreadable, she seemed to be warring with herself just as he was. Or at least he hoped she was. He could just be projecting his unruly lust, wanting her to feel the same way.

A rattling sound drug him from his stupor and he saw the tray he held was shaking violently. He thrust it onto the nearest table, knocking a couple of physics books to the ground. "I. . .I'll. . .just. . .uh. . ."

He stopped stuttering as she took a step toward him, a move Diego copied in her direction. Victoria then took another pace forward, which he matched. It continued until they stood less than a foot away from each other. Biting her lip, something that had always driven him crazy, Victoria gazed up at him uncertainly. But behind her hesitation, Diego saw the same spark of desire that was coursing through him. 

His fingers flew to the buttons of his shirt, clumsily releasing only half of them before impatiently dragging the crumpled white linen over his head then flinging it aside. Before he had the chance to move his trembling hands to the falls of his trousers, Victoria pushed them aside and she undid them herself, fumbling nearly as badly as he would have done. 

A few moments later, they both stood there, not wearing a stitch of clothing, and staring at each other self-consciously. Victoria twisted her lip between her teeth again, and that was more than Diego could take. He drew her into his arms and lowered his mouth to hers. Victoria returned his kiss eagerly, placing her hands on his chest before entwining them around his neck.

Before either of them could regain their senses, Diego swept Victoria off her feet and carried her over to the small cot, praying that it was sturdy enough to bear them both.

It was.

Z Z Z


	13. Chapter 13

Victoria woke up with a start. _Where am I?_ she wondered as she pushed her hair from her eyes. She felt cramped and chilled, except for her back, which was resting against something quite solid and warm.

_Diego. Dios mio_. She closed her eyes again, sick with the knowledge she had fallen so wantonly into his arms once again. What must he think of her? It couldn't be any worse than what she thought of herself. Well, this would be the last time, no matter how tempting Diego may be. With his broad shoulders and muscular chest and his. . . 

She tried to sit up but could not because she was trapped under Diego's left arm. Her movement must have disturbed him because he shifted his position, pressing against her. _Oh dear. . .was that his. . .?_ Victoria wriggled away, not caring if she woke him. Spying a blanket on the floor, she picked it up, wondering if she should use it to hide her nakedness or Diego's. Her clothes were neatly folded on the chair next to the still full tub. If she could just get to them before he awoke fully.

With a deep breath of resolve, Victoria stood up, tossed the blanket Diego's way, then dashed across the cave. She snatched up her chemise, hastily putting it on.

Diego didn't stir again until she was tucking her blouse into her skirt. That was when she noticed the blanket she had thrown at him covered him from the waist up. _Oh my_. She wanted to look away but. . .

Thankfully, Diego tugged the blanket downward then sat up, glancing around until he saw her. "Oh, you're awake," he said with a yawn. He rubbed his hand over his eyes. "Victoria, I. . .I am sorry about. . ." he began apologetically.

"No, I'm the one who should. . ." she started to cut in.

Diego interrupted her with a shake of his head. "No, the fault is all mine. I should not have brought you here. It was a bad idea from the beginning."

Victoria was stunned into silence by his directness. Turning his back to her, he gathered up his own clothing, and hurriedly dressed. When he had finished, he came over to where she was still standing and reached out, taking her hands in his.

"We cannot keep doing this," he declared, echoing her earlier thoughts. "Sooner or later there are going to be consequences. So. . ." She stared in horror as he dropped down to one knee. "Victoria, will you marry me?"

"You cannot be serious," she blurted out ungraciously. _He must be mad_ , she thought. She was damaged goods; she had already been beneath someone of his stature, but now, there was no question of a match between them. He would become the laughingstock of the pueblo.

"I have never been so serious in my life," he stated, bursting into her thoughts. "Indeed, some of those consequences may have already taken root."

Oh dear, he was right. She could be pregnant with his child. Her mind filled with the image of a sturdy little boy with a bashful smile and green eyes. With a swift intake of breath, she realized at that moment she was in love with Diego. And it was nothing like the infatuation she had felt for Zorro. Because that was all it had ever been, a childish obsession. And this new knowledge firmed her resolve she would not allow him to ruin himself by making her his wife. 

She lifted her chin, looking him in the eye. "No, Diego." She pulled her hands from his grasp. "I cannot marry you."

The temperature in the cave felt like it dropped several degrees as he rose back up to his full height. "You had no problem accepting Zorro's proposal of marriage," he finally replied icily. "You didn't even know who he truly was then. But you didn't even hesitate. So why do you refuse me now?"

Victoria winced as his words hit her like shards of glass. "That was different," she explained. "That was before everything changed." Surely he understood she was not a suitable wife for him, or anyone for that matter. Not after everything that had happened. Whatever respectability she had once possessed had long disappeared.

"Before what changed?" demanded Diego. "Before you knew it was me behind the mask? And you decided you could not love the man beneath it?"

"No!" she denied his angry charges. "It has nothing to do with that." She could see he did not believe her for a second. And she knew he would try to dismiss her reasons for refusing his offer of marriage. He would never understand. It was because she loved him she had to let him go.

Lowering her head, she said, "Just take me back home, Diego. You have no right to keep me here." Yes, take her back to the tavern. There was wine there, all she could drink and more. Yes, and she could drink it all, whispered a little voice in her head, and it still would not blot out the tragedy that had become her life.

"Very well, as you wish," he acquiesced, consulting his pocket watch. "It is nearly four in the morning, we should leave now while it is still dark."

"Fine with me," she replied edgily. What was he up to? she wondered. She had crossed her arms defiantly, expecting him to put up more of a fight and was more than a little surprised he hadn't.

He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but shook his head instead. After walking over to peer through a hole in the wall, he motioned for her to follow him.

Z Z Z

Diego brought his mare to a halt at the rear of the tavern, then helped her to dismount. His hands lingered on her waist, so she took a backward step, breaking the slight contact. The scowl marring his face told her he was irritated by the gesture.

"This isn't over," he rasped. 

"Yes, it is," Victoria stated. She tried to walk past him, but he moved into her way.

"We just cannot leave it like this," he pleaded.

Sighing wearily, she shrugged her shoulders. "There is nothing left to say. Diego, _por favor_ , let me go."

"What if there is a child?" he asked pointedly.

"What if there isn't?" countered Victoria coldly. Glancing up, she saw he was hurting inside as much as she was. Softening for a moment, she said, "I will let you know if there is."

He closed his eyes. " _Gracias_."

Thinking to take advantage of his inattention, she stepped to the side, intending to go around him. He sprung forward, once again blocking her path.

"I love you, Victoria," he declared solemnly, "and I thought you felt the same way about me."

"It's too late," she replied, staring over his shoulder at a spot on the tavern's wall, willing herself not to leap into his arms and telling him she loved him too. "Everything has changed."

"You keep saying that. Yet you won't tell me what you mean," he said. "Nothing has changed for me. I will always love you. I will always want you to be my wife."

She shook her head. "I can't be. We need to get on with our lives. Our separate lives," she emphasized. "I have a business to attend to. Please, Diego, let me go."

"At least promise me you will stop drinking," he implored her. 

She sighed wearily. "Why does it matter so much to you?" she inquired. "I am not hurting anyone if I have a glass or two of wine." When he looked askance at her, she added, "What do you want me to do? Go down on my knees and swear to you I won't let another drop of wine pass my lips? 

"Nothing quite so dramatic," Diego said wryly. He studied her for what seemed like hours, but in truth was only a few seconds. "Very well, until you are ready to admit you even have a problem with alcohol, there isn't anything I can say or do, is there? He then shifted out of her way.

.Without a backward glance, Victoria hurried past him, opening her tavern's back entrance then closing it quickly behind her. Sagging against the rough wooden door, she brought her hands to her face as tears began to stream down her cheeks.

Turning down Diego's proposal of marriage was the most difficult choice of her life. Giving up the man she loved, the man she had given her body and soul to, the man she had never been worthy of. . .

Well, no more crying for what might have been, she scolded as she wiped her face. She needed to follow her own advice and move on.

She made her way over to the clay pot and snatched up the bottle of wine hidden behind it. Not bothering to find a glass, Victoria lifted it to her lips.

Z Z Z

Don Alejandro de la Vega strolled into the tavern early one evening nearly a month later. Alone. Victoria released the breath she had not even realized she was holding. She watched as the old don joined his friend Don Sebastian at a nearby table.

She had seen little of Diego in the weeks since he had so brazenly carried her off to Zorro's cave. Which was just fine with her, since she was tired of him acting like some moral authority, warning her about the evils of alcohol while trying to lift her skirts every chance he could. _Cerdo!_

Making her way toward the two caballeros, she plastered a smile onto her face. "What can I get you gentlemen?" she inquired.

"A carafe of wine," said Don Sebastian. "And whatever the special is."

"It's chicken enchiladas," she replied. Sergeant Mendoza had requested the dish that morning and Victoria had seen no reason to deny it.

"Sounds good." Don Alejandro rubbed his hands together. "I will have the same, _por favor_."

His kindly expression almost made her feel guilty about thinking his son a swine. Almost. "I'll bring your food right out," she murmured before turning to do just that.

As she approached their table with their meals, she heard Don Sebastian ask, "Where is Diego? He never comes to town anymore. There hasn't been an issue of The Guardian for two months."

"Gets up at sunrise and works until sundown," the elder de la Vega explained with a shake of his head. "I don't know what has gotten into the boy. He's out mending fences and rounding up strays. He's even memorized the breeding book backwards and forward." The elder de la Vega glanced at Victoria, who was setting their plates before them, and blushed slightly. " _Perdón_ , Victoria." 

" _De nada_." She felt the heat crawl up her face as well, which was silly. ‘Breeding' was such a tame word for Don Alejandro to use in her presence in light of what she had done with his son. 

_Gracias a Dios_ , her courses had arrived right on schedule, so the worry whether she had gotten pregnant during their tryst in the cave had been resolved. She had no idea how to tell Diego though. It wasn't something one could blurt out during a chance encounter. Especially when such meetings were nonexistent. 

Victoria swirled away, heading for the safety of her kitchen. As soon as she had deposited her tray, she picked up her glass of wine and drained it. As she refilled it, she noticed that the pan of enchiladas sitting on the table was almost empty. Better see if the second batch was finished, she told herself with a giggle, thinking of the disappointed look on Mendoza's face if all the enchiladas were gone.

Grabbing a towel, she headed toward the hearth. _Why is the floor suddenly tilting?_ she wondered as she walked. Reaching down to pick up the baking pan, her head began to spin, and she stumbled forward. Taking a deep breath, she plucked the enchiladas from the hot embers and carried them over to the table.

A strange odor began filling the air, one she couldn't quite place. And it was getting warmer as well. That was when she noticed the smoke and a strange, flickering light and looked down.

_Dios mio_ , her skirt was on fire!

Z Z Z


	14. Chapter 14

Victoria stood frozen for a few heartbeats, staring at the flames licking ever higher up her skirt. A wave of panic washed over her. _Water!_ She needed water. Frantically searching the room, she spied the sink against the far wall. She took a step toward it, then cried out as scorching heat seared her right leg. 

Then, without warning, something solid slammed into her, knocking her to the floor and driving the air from her lungs. Stunned, Victoria barely noticed that she was being rolled over and over until she ended up on her back, with a heavy weight atop her.

She opened her eyes to see Sergeant Mendoza's face mere inches from hers. They stared at each other, both gasping for breath, for what seemed a lifetime until they realized the embarrassing position in which they had landed. Victoria felt her cheeks grow hot as she watched Mendoza's turn beet red. He pushed himself upward, quickly leaping to his feet. 

"I. . .I am so sorry, Señorita," he stammered awkwardly, not meeting her gaze as he offered his hand to help her up. "I did not mean to. . . I mean. . . You were on fire!" he pointed out unnecessarily.

"No, gracias, Sergeant," Victoria replied as she stood on shaky legs. "You. . .You saved my life," she stated with a small cough, still feeling overwhelmed by the whole incident.

Mendoza smiled shyly. "Are you all right?" he inquired, glancing down at the front of her skirt, which was hanging in charred tatters. "Do you need the doctor?"

"No, I am fine," she said. Thankfully, her petticoat was mostly intact. She raised it up and found the spot near her right knee that still felt a bit singed. Her throat was dry, no doubt from the smoke she had inhaled. It was a miracle she had not been harmed further.

She let her skirt drop as Don Alejandro and several of the other customers swarmed into the kitchen. "What happened?"asked the elder de la Vega. "I could smell something burning, then the next thing I knew, Mendoza here was running through the tavern. I don't think I've ever seen him move so fast before."

"It was nothing, Don Alejandro," lied Victoria, as she stepped behind the table, hiding the damage to her clothing. "I just dropped a towel into the fire."

The sergeant stared at her for a moment, then pasted an insincere smile onto his face. "Si, just a towel, Don Alejandro," he said, backing up her fib. "I was worried it was my dinner."

"Now that would be a tragedy," said the old don with a chuckle. "And so is the fact my own dinner is getting cold." With a shake of his head, he waved the others toward the dining room. 

Once the men had departed, Victoria picked up a plate and began to pile it high with enchiladas, hoping to distract the sergeant. When it could hold no more, she handed the dish to Mendoza, who took it then immediately set it back down.

"Why did you lie to Don Alejandro?" The stout soldier's question startled Victoria but did not surprise her. And she certainly could not tell him the truth; that she did not want word that she nearly burned to death to reach Diego's ears. The younger de la Vega would guess she had been drinking. She didn't want him to come rushing into town and make a fool of himself. . .and her, again. 

"Oh, you know," she began, scrambling for a good excuse. "You know how Don Alejandro is. I didn't want him to fuss." She then added the rest of the enchiladas to his plate.

"Uh huh," murmured the lancer, his attention now diverted to the stack of food. He picked up the dish again and started to leave.

"Mendoza, wait." Victoria wiped her hands on her apron as the sergeant came to a halt. "How did you know what to do? I mean. . ." She glanced down at the floor where they had been rolling around only moments before.

"Oh, there was a girl at the orphanage," he began, "one of the older girls who helped in the kitchen. I was, well. . ." He paused as his face glowed pink. " I was sneak. . .I mean getting an apple." Victoria smiled at the image of a smaller, chubby-cheeked version of Mendoza sneaking food from the larder.

"She got too close to the fire and her skirt started burning," the sergeant continued. "One of the older boys who had been bringing in some firewood, knocked her down and smothered the flames by rolling her around. It was something I've never forgotten."

Victoria grew wistful, thinking how sad it must have been as an orphan at such a young age. Mendoza had never gotten to truly know his parents like she had. And he had saved her from horrible injuries or even death. Surely there was something she could do to repay him. Then a smile grew on her lips as she thought of the very thing.

"Sergeant, I want to thank you again for saving me. And to show my appreciation, you can eat here at the tavern for free for the rest of your life."

The stout soldier's eyes and mouth widened in shock. "Oh, no, Señorita," he replied after a few moments. He shook his head and held up his hands. "I could not possibly take advantage of you like that."

"How about for a month, then?" Victoria countered.

"Deal," he agreed eagerly. She held out her hand and they sealed the bargain with a handshake. He then picked up his dish, and with a grin from ear to ear, strolled back into the main dining room. Victoria sighed.

She had almost burned to death. And she could place the blame on herself and the three bottles of wine she had consumed that day. As much as it pained her to admit it, Diego was right. She had to quit drinking. She had to stop using alcohol as a crutch. It wasn't even to numb her pain anymore, as the memory of her attack faded with each passing day. Sure, she still had the occasional nightmare or random stray thought, though they were no longer a valid reason for the amount of wine she was drinking on a daily basis.

Victoria decided she needed to do something more positive with her life, instead of slowly killing herself with liquor. But what? 

Then she recalled the story Mendoza had told her about living in the orphanage. All those children, without parents, abandoned, with no one but a few nuns and noviciates to care for them. Children who could replace the ones she would never have, unworthy as she was to become a wife and mother. 

Filled with a new determination, Victoria marched out of the kitchen to change her clothes so she could go speak with Padre Benitez.

Z Z Z

_So this is what it is like to go insane_ , Diego thought a week later as he pounded the fence post into the ground with his mallet. Replacing sections of the fence line that did not need replacing in order to appear busy. Much too busy to visit the pueblo and increase the likelihood of running into a certain señorita who had trampled on his heart.

Pausing to swipe the sweat from his brow, Diego let his mind drift to the conversation he had the evening before with his father. Don Alejandro had been waiting for him in the library when he had arrived back at the hacienda a little after midnight.

"And where have you been?" the old don inquired without preamble.

"San Pedro," he had replied curtly. "I had some letters to post."

"So you rode all the way to San Pedro?" asked his father incredulously. "We may live on the frontier, Diego, but we do get mail service here in Los Angeles."

"I also went to see if there was any news of interest."

"For the newspaper? The one that hasn't had a new issue in over two months?"

Diego had shifted his feet, feeling not unlike a naughty child being scolded after being caught red-handed. "Yes," he answered. "I am gathering information for the next issue. It's. . .er. . .taking a bit longer than usual." 

The elder de la Vega rose to his feet and came to stand an arm's length away in front of his son. "Diego, I know you are a grown man, and a very fine one at that. But I am still your father and I still worry." He shook his head. "No one knew where you were. No one. Not even Felipe. And he always knows where you are."

He had averted his eyes guiltily. The decision to travel to the little port town had been an impulsive one made when he had still been awake at four in the morning. He had slipped out of the hacienda, not wanting to disturb either Felipe or his father. 

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I should have left a note." He really did not have a good excuse as to why he had not, other than the fact he _was_ a grown man who shouldn't have to be accountable for his whereabouts. But that was not a valid reason for someone who had been raised as a gentleman.

"Yes, you should have," the old don agreed. "Son," he said before clearing his throat, "I. . .uh. . .understand a young man has. . .uh. . .needs. . . and that. . .uh. . .fulfilling them can be. . ."

"No," he interjected before the elder de la Vega could continue his erroneous and embarrassing line of thought. "That is not why. . . No." He shook his head for emphasis.

"Oh. . .good." Don Alejandro had looked even more relieved than Diego had felt.

Diego's musings were interrupted when he spied a figure on horseback in the distance. As the person drew closer, he saw it was Felipe, who waved then slashed a large "Z" in the air. 

Excellent, he thought as he gathered up his tools and put his shirt back on. Zorro was just the distraction he could use right now.

Z Z Z

[parts of the following were taken from episode "Symbol of Hope" written by Carleton Hollander]

Three hours later, he was not so sure being shot at was exactly the diversion he had been seeking. The trio of cattle rustlers had run into the pueblo then spread out, each in a different direction, and finding refuge behind barrels, crates, and wagons.

Zorro guessed they were reloading as he uncoiled his whip, riding up on Toronado to where the first man was doing a poor job of hiding. The black leather made a swooshing sound as he twirled it over his head. The bandito's head popped up, musket in hand, looking for the source of the noise. The whip coiled around the weapon's barrel and was yanked from the man's hands before he could even blink. The musket clattered to the ground somewhere behind the masked man's big black stallion.

The second thief must have run out of bullets because he came charging at Zorro, his sword drawn. His whip still circling in the air, the man in black jerked his arm and the second bandit dropped his saber as the leather bit his hand.

The last man, whom Zorro had determined to be the leader of the motley crew, recognized his compadres were unarmed, decided to do the honorable thing (for a thief, that is) and run away. He did not, however, get more than a few feet before the black lash was wrapped around his throat and he was wrenched backward, right into a collision with the second bandito. The two men crashed to the ground, raising a cloud of dust. 

The first thief tried to imitate his boss, but he, too, failed to take more than a couple of steps before Zorro's whip coiled about his ankles and he landed on his face.

"Zorro!"

The masked man turned in the direction of the thin, childish voice. Glancing upward, he saw Padre Benitez, Victoria, and a young boy staring down at him from a window at the mission. The lad must have been the one who called out, but the man in black had eyes for no one but the woman. Dios mio, she was as beautiful as ever, even more so, if that were possible. She seemed tired, but there was a certain glow about her, one that had been missing for months.

It dawned on him then he still had not learned the outcome of their last coupling. Counting back, he realized it had been over a month ago. Surely she would know by now if she was with child. Why hadn't she told him. . .

"Zorro!"

This time he knew immediately who had shouted his name. De Soto stood on the porch of his office, pointing to his lancers with his left hand, and raising his own pistol with his right. 

Spinning Toronado around, Zorro saluted to the trio in the window, then urged the Andalusian forward. As he rode out of town, not even the clattering of hooves and the whizzing of musket balls past his head could drown out the triumphant cry of the young boy.

"Zorro!"

Z Z Z

Curiosity killed the cat, Diego recalled as he tied his horse to the hitching post in front of the tavern at noon the following day. Hopefully it would be much kinder to a fox. Taking a pace forward, he stopped and stared up at the building before him. It had been over six weeks since he had last stepped foot inside. He had been strolling through its doors for years without a second thought. Why did he feel uneasy to do so now, just because its lovely owner had turned down his proposal of marriage? Cobarde! he scolded himself, feeling foolish over his reluctance to face the woman he loved.

Taking a deep breath, he moved forward, his desire to find out if Victoria was pregnant, what she had been doing at the mission, and the identity of the lad who was obviously a great supporter of Zorro, overriding his trepidation. Business must have picked up in his absence, he noted as he walked into the tavern. Most of the tables were filled with faces he recognized. 

Sitting down at the first empty table he saw, Diego glanced around, noticing it was Alicia who was waiting on customers. Victoria was in the kitchen, no doubt, he told himself, half drunk and in a bad temper to boot. 

Alicia sauntered up to him. "What can I get you, Don Diego?" she asked in a churlish tone as if she would like nothing more than to show him the door.

"Is there any _albondigas_ soup today?" he inquired, wondering if she was still upset about his supposed ill-treatment of her employer.. 

" _Si_."

Diego sighed, realizing she was not going to waste any manners on the likes of him. "I'll have a bowl, _por favor_ ," he requested, hoping silently she not spit in it before serving.

"Fine." The waitress headed off toward the kitchen with his order. As he watched her leave, his view was interrupted by de Soto sitting down at the next table, carrying a book. 

" _Buenos dias_ , Alcalde," Diego greeted his old schoolmate.

"What? Oh, good day, Diego," the other man returned distractedly as he opened his tome. "Señorita," he called out, snapping his fingers as he began to read.

Alicia had reappeared with Diego's soup, plunking it down in front of him before going over and taking the alcalde's order.

[parts of the following were taken from episode "Symbol of Hope" written by Carleton Hollander]

Diego was just lifting a spoonful of his soup to his mouth when Victoria stalked out into the dining room and plopped a bowl in front of de Soto before tossing a spoon onto his table. In a bad mood, just as he expected. She then turned away to pick up some glasses.

"Um. . .señorita," said the alcalde, looking down at his food. "Señorita Escalante!" She came up behind him, carrying a tray of dirty dishes. Twisting in his seat, he announced, "I ordered carne asada."

"So you don't like my soup?" she inquired belligerently.

"Well, if I wanted _albondigas_ soup, I certainly would have ordered _albondigas_ soup," he said, holding up his bowl with both hands.

"You know, you should be grateful you can eat at all,"she stated loudly. "Some people are too sick to eat."

Diego's interest was piqued. Was she working with ill people? Maybe at the mission? Was that boy one of her patients? His need to speak with her grew tenfold.

"Well, uh, that's their problem, isn't it?" de Soto asked as Diego winced at the other man's lack of empathy. 

"It should be everyone's problem." And with that, Victoria reached out and snatched the soup from the alcalde, spilling some of it onto the commandante's book.

Totally ignoring his irritated grumbling, Victoria spun around and seized Diego's bowl as well, leaning over as she did so and whispering, "I need to talk to you." She then inclined her head in the direction of the bar. Walking away, she kicked a stool as she passed by the alcalde's table, then headed into the kitchen. De Soto glanced over at Diego, who just shrugged his shoulders before wiping his mouth with his napkin. Getting to his feet, he picked up his glass of juice before meandering over to the counter. Victoria emerged carrying a pitcher of fresh lemonade. 

"Hold out your glass," she said under her breath.

"But this is orange juice," he said stupidly.

"Oh, just do it." She reached out, pulling his hand holding the cup forward and filled it with the lemonade.

"Before you drive away the customers you just got back, why don't you tell me what's the matter?" he asked in a low voice.

"It's nothing. . ." she began, then stared up at him defiantly, "nothing that Zorro can't fix."

"I thought you didn't need him to help you anymore."

Victoria's eyes narrowed as he threw her words back at her. "It's not for me," she hissed. "It's for a young boy at the mission."

That caught Diego's ear. Finally. An answer to one of his questions and he didn't even have to ask it.

"His name is Sergio. He is so ill with fever that he cannot eat," she continued. "But, yesterday, when he saw Zorro, he arose from his sickbed and spoke for the first time in two days. He thought Zorro had come to take him for a ride."

"Why would he think that?" As far as Diego knew, he did not know this Sergio, either as himself or as his alter-ego. Was it a case of hero-worship from afar?

"He's a young boy. They have their fantasies," Victoria replied with a smile. A smile that proved that men had their fantasies as well, as he wished she had meant it for him and not because of motherly concern over a child.

"So he believes that Zorro will come back?" he queried, realizing just what she was requesting of him. 

"Oh, yes," she said. "He hasn't lost faith, even though each day may be his last."

Nice touch, he thought uncharitably. Add a little guilt to the mixture. Diego lounged against the counter, taking a sip of his orange juice lemonade combination, which actually didn't taste that bad. De Soto was still seated at his table, dabbing at his damp book with his napkin and unabashedly eavesdropping on their conversation. Scanning the room, he noticed other customers were sending glances their way, too. Had they also been keeping track of how long it had been since he and Victoria had spoken to each other? 

She must have become aware they were attracting unwanted attention as well. Raising her voice, she declared, "Padre Benitez and I are hoping that Zorro will learn of his plight. So we're telling everybody." 

"Then I am sure Zorro will hear of it," he responded nonchalantly. He drained his glass and set it down on the bar. " _Buenas tardes_ , Señorita," he added, digging in his waistcoat pocket then placing some coins next to his cup. "Is that all?" he murmured. "There isn't anything else you would like to talk about?"

Her lovely countenance grew confused. "Just do this for Sergio," she muttered. "Then we're even."

With that she twirled about and disappeared into the kitchen. Even? How did she figure that? Diego shook his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw de Soto get to his feet and stalk out of the tavern. He wondered how much the other man had overheard and what he was going to do with the information. One did not have to be as cunning as a fox to know a trap of some kind was in Zorro's future. A despicable trap using a sick boy as bait.

Well, thought Diego as he followed the alcalde outside, two could play that game as a slightly less wicked counterplot came to mind. Chuckling, he untied his mare, mounted up, and headed back to the hacienda.

Z Z Z


	15. Chapter 15

[parts of the following were taken from the episode "Symbol of Hope" written by Carleton Hollander]

Not quite a week later, Victoria was leading several of the orphans back to the mission. They had been at the tavern where she had been giving them cooking lessons. Each child carried a warm tamale wrapped in a napkin. At the entrance to their quarters, Padre Benitez greeted the boys and girls, who proudly showed him what they had made. 

A completely healthy Sergio walked beside Victoria. It had been a miracle. Only a few days earlier the boy had been on his deathbed. But then Zorro had swooped in and taken Sergio from right under the alcalde's nose and had somehow cured the lad. With a smile, she remembered the look of horror on de Soto's face when the masked man and the padre had convinced him Sergio's illness was contagious. The commandante had scurried out of the orphanage as though his pants were on fire. Served him right, using a sick child as bait, she thought harshly.

A tug on her skirt broke through her musings. Sergio was smiling up at her and before she could return the gesture, he rose up on his toes and kissed her cheek. 

"Oh," she said, her face warming, "thank you, Sergio." 

The priest, who had guided the last of the other children through the door way, chuckled. "Sergio, you are not yet old enough to start capturing the hearts of beautiful women," he said in a mock scold.

The loud whinny of a horse caused them to all turn around to see Zorro riding up on Toronado. Man and animal came to a stop, raising a small cloud of dust. 

"What are you doing here?" she demanded brusquely.

The man in black tipped his head politely. "Señorita. Padre. I have come to take Sergio for his ride. This time with his health intact and his blindfold off."

"Oh," replied Victoria, somewhat chastened, as Sergio ran up to his hero to be lifted into the saddle.

The lad held up the napkin he was still holding. "We can share this tamale that Señorita Escalante showed us how to make," he said excitedly.

"I would be honored," Zorro declared. "If the señorita shared her culinary secrets with you, I am sure it will be quite delicious." With that, he saluted Victoria and the padre, spun his black stallion around then spurred him forward. 

Victoria watched as the pair rode off toward the lowering sun. A stab of envy ripped through her and she placed her hand on her stomach. That should be her, riding off on that big black horse into that sunset with the man she loved. She shook her head and sighed. Happily ever afters only took place in books, not real life. The sooner she learned to live with that fact, the sooner her pain would ease.

She was startled as a hand was placed lightly on her shoulder and she turned to look into the understanding eyes of the padre. "No," she choked out before he could spout some platitude intended to make her feel better but would instead have the opposite effect. "I need to get back to my tavern."

Once she was safely back inside, Victoria marched over to the bar and grabbed a bottle of wine. She pulled out its cork, then lifted it to her lips. The smell of fermented grapes assailed her nose, making her feel a bit queasy. 

_Madre de Dios_ , she thought as she let the bottle thump down onto the counter. What was she doing? She had not touched a drop in weeks. Was she going to throw that all away because she caught a glimpse of what she could never have?

_But you could numb all the anguish_ , a little demon in her mind whispered. _Rid yourself of the heartache of knowing you can never be with Diego and never have children of your own_. Her hand holding the bottle involuntarily caressed its smooth surface. 

"No," she said aloud, shaking her head in a vain attempt to clear away her self-pity. _Yes_ , the voice said seductively, _just a glass or two to drown your pain and sorrow. You know you need it. You know it is the only way you can cope with the hand fate has dealt you_.

Victoria stared at the bottle for several minutes as she struggled to quiet the monster she thought she had already defeated. "No," she reiterated, "I am not going to let you win again."

She shoved the cork back into the bottle. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alicia emerge from the kitchen then stop, an expression of concern on her face. Victoria turned to her with what she hoped was an encouraging smile as she placed the wine back under the bar. The worry did not entirely disappear from her employee's countenance, but Victoria couldn't help what the other woman thought she saw. She knew she had resisted the temptation. And in the end, that was all that really mattered.

Z Z Z

The image of Victoria's hand on her abdomen was first and foremost in Diego's mind as he cantered into the pueblo. He would never know what compelled him to glance over his shoulder at that precise moment and he did not know if he should bless it or curse it. Did it mean she was pregnant with his child? Or was he reading too much into the gesture?

Well, there was only one way to find out, he told himself, slowing his mare as they approached the tavern. It wasn't until he had dismounted that he noticed that it was dark inside and the front doors were shut. So she had closed for the night, he thought with a shrug before realizing it was barely ten in the evening. The tavern was never shuttered so early, not unless there was an emergency. 

With a purposeful stride, Diego marched up onto the porch and yanked on the door handle which didn't budge. He then banged his fist against the door. Just as he was about to knock again, the portal opened, revealing a grim-faced Alicia. "We're closed, Don Diego," she announced unnecessarily. 

"I need to speak with Victoria," he stated, ignoring her rude tone.

"Haven't you caused her enough problems?" she asked rhetorically before stepping back and shutting the door in his face. 

Diego stood there, stunned, as he heard the bolt slide back into place before shaking off his shock and giving the door another thump. _Malditas mujeres_. He was not going to take no for an answer this time. Turning, he walked off the porch and stood in front of the building.

"Victoria!" he shouted as he looked upward. "Victoria!"

After yelling her name several more times, the door leading out to the balcony was wrenched open and the lovely innkeeper herself stalked up to its railing.

"Stop it," she hissed at him. "Go away before you wake up the whole pueblo."

"No," he replied, "We need to talk."

"We have nothing left to say," declared Victoria. "Go home, Diego." She spun around to go back inside.

"Victoria! Wait!" 

She stopped for a second, shook her head, then stepped over the threshold.

"Victoria!" Diego fisted his hands in frustration. "Victoria! I am not leaving until you come down here and talk to me." He watched as she stood with her back to him, her body quivering with anger and uncertainty. "Victoria, _por favor_ ," he implored.

With no indication she had heard his plea, she moved through the door then closed it. 

"Victoria!" He could not believe she had just left without saying a word. Whether she liked it or not, this. . .this. . .situation, for the lack of a better word, was going to be laid to rest. 

He was in the middle of contemplating finding a length of rope and climbing up onto the balcony when the front doors of the tavern were flung open and an irate looking Victoria walked out. _Madre de Dios! She is magnificent_ , he thought as she glanced angrily from side to side. It was only after he tore his eyes from her, that he noticed they had attracted the attention of rather more than a smattering of people. 

"Well," Victoria demanded, her arms akimbo, "here I am, Diego. Say what you want to say then go."

"Uh. . .maybe we should step inside?" Diego suggested, not wanting to air their dirty laundry in front of those who had gathered.

She shook her head. "I don't think that would be a good idea," she said somewhat bitterly. Diego conceded her point. The tavern was her territory. It was where she lived. It was where she slept. In a bed they had shared. No, not a good idea at all, he agreed, frantically trying to dispel the images that had sprung into his head.

He was plucked out of his indecent musings when a hand descended upon his shoulder. Startled, he turned to see Padre Benitez standing beside him. "Why don't you two hold your discussion in the mission?" the priest offered. 

Diego immediately picked up on the other man's meaning. There could be no improprieties between them whilst they were in the church, which would also be neutral ground. 

"Fine," declared Victoria. " _Gracias, Padre_ ," she said as she strolled past both men.

" _Si, gracias, Padre_ ," echoed Diego before he followed after her.

Victoria was sitting down in a pew on the right side of the chapel when Diego entered. After closing the door behind him, he sat down on the bench opposite. An awkward silence ensued for what seemed like an eternity as they both stared toward the altar. Diego knew he needed to speak first, but was unsure of how to begin. 

"Well?" Victoria's voice broke into his thoughts. "I thought you wanted to talk. So talk."

"I did. . .I mean I do." He closed his eyes. "I have something to ask you, and I. . ."

"You are not going to ask me to marry you again, are you?" she asked disparagingly. "Because the answer is still no."

"No, that's not what I was going to. . . Although I wish you would reconsider." Diego opened his eyes and assessed her objectively. Obviously, she was in no mood for an amicable conversation. So he leapt straight to the point. "Are you pregnant?"

"What?" She turned to glare a him. "No, of course not. I would have. . .I would have told you."

"Would you?" he asked skeptically. "You've left me in suspense for weeks. A simple yes or no either way would have been appreciated as soon as you knew."

Victoria sighed. "I know and I am sorry," she apologized. "But in my defense, you have been avoiding me. I never had a chance to tell you."

"I wasn't avoiding you," he replied dishonestly. "I was. . ." He stopped before he lied to the both of them. "But you're right, there was not an opportunity in which to discuss such a delicate matter."

"So is that it?" Getting to her feet, Victoria stepped out into the aisle. 

"No. Sit back down," he ordered. Then, seeing the indignant expression on her face, added, " _Por favor_."

"You got what you came for. I am leaving."

Diego got to his feet then. "No, you're not. This is not over. I love you, Victoria," he declared earnestly. "I love you, and I want you to be my wife."

"Oh, Diego." Victoria dropped back down into her pew and buried her face into her hands. "It can never be. Why will you not accept that?"

"I cannot accept what I do not understand. You keep saying everything has changed, but you won't tell me what has changed." He crossed the aisle, kneeling down beside her. "Is it because you cannot love the man beneath the mask?"

She raised her head and Diego saw the heartbreak in her eyes, along with tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. "No, it has nothing to do with Zorro. I know now he was just an infatuation," she replied, wiping at her face. "You are a de la Vega, and I am just a tavern wench." She held out her hand at his protest. "You know it's true. In time you would regret. . ."

"I would regret nothing," he cut in before she could stop him. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known, inside and out. And I am a wanted outlaw with a price on my head. It doesn't matter who we are. If we love each other, none of that will ever matter."

Victoria shook her head. "How can you believe that?" she asked in astonishment. "I will never be good enough for you. Never. In a single moment my life was changed forever. I became something that would bring shame on you and your family and your name. . ."

Diego stared at her. She was talking about her rape, still blaming herself for its cause. Once again, he was thankful that Baquero was dead, if only to save himself from the sin of murdering the bastardo. 

". . .and your father would never approve." He realized she was still speaking, probably enumerating all the reasons why she could not marry him. 

"My father already loves you like a daughter," he declared dismissively. "Your father was a fine man whom he was proud to call his friend." Cupping her cheek with one hand, he lifted her eyes to his. "Victoria, you believe that since you were raped. . ." He broke off his words as she twisted her face away with a cry. "No, listen," Diego ground out, reaching out and holding onto her shoulders. "You think yourself unworthy because of what that vile man did to you. If you deny yourself a husband and family because of that, you are letting him win.

"Is that what you want? For Baquero to dictate the rest of your life?" He saw her flinch at the sound of her attacker's name. He knew he was not being kind. But so far, kindness had gotten him nowhere. Cold, hard facts were the only way to get through to her and make her see reason.

"No, that's not what I want," murmured Victoria. "But. . ."

"Do you love me?" he cut in before she could come up with another excuse. "It is a very simple question. Yes or no."

"It doesn't matter how I feel," she said resignedly. 

"Yes it does. It is the only thing that truly does matter." He released her, then rose to his full height. "Just know, that if the answer is no. . . If you say you don't love me, I won't like it but if that is your decision, to break off permanently, I will accept it."

"Permanently?" Victoria repeated uneasily, glancing up at him with wide eyes. "But. . .but. . .we would still remain friends, would we not?" 

Sword thrusts would have done less damage to his heart. So she had never loved Zorro and now she merely wanted to be‘friends'? Diego didn't know how much more he could take. "How could we?" he lashed out. "I want to be your husband, the father of your children. . .your lover. I cannot just be your friend." 

He shook his head wearily. "I need to make a clean break. My father wants grandchildren. I have an obligation to him and to my name to provide them. If not with you, then with someone else. Someone who undoubtedly would not understand a friendship between me and the woman who is the love of my life. Because you are the only woman I will ever love. Even if I marry another."

Diego watched as despair washed across her beautiful countenance as the enormity of his words sank in. He hated that he had to say them, knowing they were little more than emotional blackmail. But they were also the truth. 

Tears streamed down Victoria's cheeks as she took a ragged breath. "I. . .I. . .I do love you," she announced as she threw herself into his arms, "with all my heart and soul. But we can't. . ." She pressed her face against his broad chest. "What will people say?" she asked with a sob. "What will they think?"

"It doesn't matter, because we won't care what they think," Diego reassured her, tightening his embrace. "I love you, Victoria and you love me. That is what truly matters." He lowered his head and she raised hers, their lips meeting in a kiss that seared him to his toes. 

He was so deeply lost in a haze of love and lust that it took him several moments to realize someone was standing behind them, clearing his throat. Slowly, as if in a dream, he lifted his head and turned to see the padre, a knowing grin gracing the man's round face.

"Shall I start calling the banns this Sunday?" he asked.

Diego glanced at Victoria, whose face was flushed, whether from the kiss or being caught, he wasn't sure. "She has not said yes. . .yet," he replied with a uncertain smile. 

Her eyes darted from him to the priest then back. "Diego, are you sure?" she said softly, her voice full of hope. 

"More sure than I have been about anything in my life."

Victoria, her eyes filled with certainty, smiled as she replied, "Then, yes, I will marry you."

Their mouths met again, forgetting their audience. "Ahem." Reluctantly drawing apart, Diego and Victoria turned to look at Padre Benitez. "This Sunday, then?" the priest inquired.

" _Si, Padre_ ," Diego agreed as he and Victoria glanced at each other with embarrassed grins.

Z Z Z

Three weeks later, Diego, his father, and Felipe rode into the plaza, where most of the pueblo's citizens had gathered. The de la Vegas dismounted in front of the tavern, where Victoria stood smiling as they hitched their horses.

Diego held out his hand and helped her down the steps. They worked their way through the crowd, joining Don Alejandro and Felipe, who were watching as the lancers marched through the cuartel gates, followed by the alcalde and Sergeant Mendoza. 

"I wonder what he will be like," Victoria speculated, standing on her toes to glance toward the pueblo gate.

"Hopefully he will not be anything like the last two," Don Alejandro replied. "A bigot and a thief. Maybe the third time's the charm, eh?"

"Just think, five more days and we will be married," said Diego, lifting Victoria's hand to his lips. She gazed up at him, her eyes brimming with the same joy he was feeling. It still felt like a dream to him. A dream that had turned into a nightmare for awhile, but now was on the verge of becoming reality. The woman he loved, who miraculously loved him in return, would finally be his wife. And nothing, and no one, would ever be able to mar the happiness he felt.

He lowered her hand, keeping it in his grasp as they awaited the imminent arrival of the king's emissary, Gilberto Risendo.

Z Z Z

**FIN**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final cliffhanger will not be resolved. Or at least I have no plans to do so. For now, I'm leaving it up to your imagination.


End file.
